Surely there would be humidity and plenty of it in Hell. Hard to imagine a condemned sinner saying cheerfully, Well, yes, it's two hundred and sixty degrees down here, but it's a *dry* heat.
South Richmond was a neighborhood of mouse holes, lace curtains, Sears catalogs, measles epidemics, baloney sandwiches- and men who knew more about the carburetor than they knew about the clitoris.
Some folks hide, and some folks seek, and seeking, when it's mindless, neurotic, desperate, or pusillanimous can be a form of hiding.
So it was that neither for the first time nor the last my verbal mojo, my knack for the written word, served to save my reckless ass.
Sissy: You really don't believe in political solutions do you?The Chink: I believe in political solutions to political problems. But man's primary problems aren't political; they're philosophical. Unt...
Since the Goddess always has been honored in sacred groves, it is understandable that patriarchs, then as now, leaned toward deforestation.
Salvador Dali and fifty cents will get you a cup of clock melt.
Romantic love is ambulatory by nature, and it must be anchored in strata more stable than lust if it’s to last. Marital disintegration is accelerated when only one, or neither, party is grounded and g...
Reality whistles a different tune underwater.
Perhaps that is why desire causes men calamity. By identifying with our desires and taking them too seriously, we not only increase our susceptibility to disappointment, we actually create a climate i...
Perhaps sound carries farther across time than across space.
Perhaps a person gains by accumulating obstacles. The more obstacles set up to prevent happiness from appearing, the greater the shock when it does appear, just as the rebound of a spring will be all...
People aren't trees, so it is false when they speak of roots.
Our great human adventure is the evolution of consciousness. We are in this life to enlarge the soul, liberate the spirit, and light up the brain.
Okay, it is what it is and I am what I it, but its isness and my itness seem to be stretching the meaning of is and it.
Often the things that pop out of my typewriter regale me, especially when I am trying to say something else and in a different way only to have a kind of metamorphosis take place during the act of typ...
Nothing is implied here. Except the possibility that everything is connected.
Not too many years ago, the names of our perfumes bore testimony to such things. There was a popular scent called Tabu, there was Sorcery, My Sin, Vampire, Voodoo, Evening in Paris, Jungle Gardenia, B...
Not aimless. Not in the least. It's just that my aims are different from most. There are plenty of aimless people on the road, all right. People who hitchhike from kicks to kicks, restlessly, searchin...
Nobody quite knew what to make of the moon any more.