Every Grain Of Experience Is

Civilised My Syphilised Yarbles.

When The State Withers, Humanity Flowers.

Writers Are Rarely Their Own Best Critics, Nor Are Critics.

Evil Has To Exist Along With Good, In Order That Moral Choice May Operate.

It Was Like A Bird Of Rarest-spun Heaven Metal Or Like Silvery Wine Flowing In A Spaceship, Gravity All Nonsense Now.