You Never Know When The Devil Might

On My 70th Birthday, I Was Asked How I Felt About Mankind's Prospects. This Is My Reply: We Are Behaving Like Yeasts In A Brewer's Vat, Multiplying Mindlessly While Greedily Consuming The Substance Of A Finite World. If We Continue To Imitate The Yeasts, We Will Perish As They Perish, Having Exhausted Our Resources And Poisoned Ourselves In The Lethal Brew Of Our Own Wastes. Unlike The Yeasts, We Have A Choice. What Will It Be?

We Have Doomed The Wolf Not For What It Is, But For What We Deliberately And Mistakenly Perceive It To Be –the Mythologized Epitome Of A Savage Ruthless Killer – Which Is, In Reality, No More Than A Reflected Image Of Ourself.

I Write Better In Cape Breton... Too Many People Around In Ontario. Down There I Meet All Sorts Of Non-human People, But They Don't Bother Me, And I Don't Feel I Have To Apologize On Behalf Of My Species Quite So Often.

Truth I Have No Trouble With, It's The Facts I Get All Screwed Up.

I Have To Go On Writing Because I Wouldn't Be Able To Go On Without Writing. It Is The Only Function That Works For Me, And Without That Function, I Would Die.