The Conch Exploded Into A

Philosophy And Religion-what Are They When The Wind Blows And The Water Gets Up In Lumps?

Maybe There Is A Beast… Maybe It's Only Us.

We're All Mad, The Whole Damned Race. We're Wrapped In Illusions, Delusions, Confusions About The Penetrability Of Partitions, We're All Mad And In Solitary Confinement.

Every Novel Is A Biography. Well, Then, This Is A Novel [the Paper Men] Which Is A Biography That Is Pretending To Be An Autobiography. That's What You Could Say About It.

People Don't Help Much.