Biology Is Destiny Only For Girls.

Sex Can No Longer Be The Germ, The Seed Of Fiction. Sex Is An Episode, Most Properly Conveyed In An Episodic Manner, Quickly, Often Ironically. It Is A Bursting Forth Of Only One Of The Cells In The Body Of The Omnipotent I, The One Who Hopes By Concentration Of Tone And Voice To Utter The Sound Of Reality.

Mothers Born On Relief Have Their Babies On Relief. Nothingness, Truly, Seems To Be The Condition Of These New York People. They Are Nomads Going From One Rooming House To Another, Looking For A Toilet That Functions.

The Fifties - They Seem To Have Taken Place On A Sunny Afternoon That Asked Nothing Of You Except A Drifting Belief In The Moment And Its Power To Satisfy.

Memory - The Very Skin Of Life.

Houses Of Evil Similarity Appeared Like Rows Of Disciplined, Humiliated Orphans.