I Don't Believe In God. Just Try

We Live In Far Too Permissive A Society. Never Before Has Pornography Been This Rampant. And Those Films Are So Badly Lit!

When We Played Softball, I'd Steal Second Base, Feel Guilty And Go Back.

Achilles Only Had An Achilles Heel, I Have An Entire Achilles Body.

Everybody Knows How Awful The World Is And What A Terrible Situation It Is And Each Person Distorts It In A Certain Way That Enables Him To Get Through. Some People Distort It With Religious Things. Some People Distort It With Sports, With Money, With Love, With Art, And They All Have Their Own Nonsense About What Makes It Meaningful, And All But Nothing Makes It Meaningful. These Things Definitely Serve A Certain Function, But In The End They All Fail To Give Life Meaning And Everyone Goes To His Grave In A Meaningless Way.

That’s One Of The Nice Things About Writing, Or Any Art; If The Thing’s Real, It Just Lives. All The Attendant Hoopla About It, The Success Over It Or The Critical Rejection—none Of That Really Matters. In The End, The Thing Will Survive Or Not On Its Own Merits. Not That Immortality Via Art Is Any Big Deal. Truffaut Died, And We All Felt Awful About It, And There Were The Appropriate Eulogies, And His Wonderful Films Live On. But It’s Not Much Help To Truffaut.