If You're Doing Nonsense It Has To

Mr Earbrass Stands On The Terrace At Twilight. It Is Bleak; It Is Cold; And The Virtue Has Gone Out Of Everything. Words Drift Through His Mind: Anguish Turnips Conjunctions Illness Defeat String Parties No Parties Urns Desuetude Disaffection Claws Loss Trebizond Napkins Shame Stones Distance Fever Antipodes Mush Glaciers Incoherence Labels Miasma Amputation Tides Deceit Mourning Elsewards.

Interviewer: What Is Your Greatest Regret? Gorey: That I Don't Have One

The World May Think It Idiotic, Nor Care At All We're Symbiotic, But I Will Say At Once And Twice: I Find It Nice. I Find It Nice.

The Helpful Thought For Which You Look Is Written Somewhere In A Book.

Such Excess Of Passion Is Quite Out Of Fashion