Money Talks, Bullshit Walks.

Whenever I Publish A Book, I Feel Like A Trapper Caught By The Iroquois. They're All Lined Up With Tomahawks, And The Idea Is To Run Through With Your Head Down, And Everybody Gets To Take A Swing. They Hit You In The Head, The Back, The Ass, And The Balls.

Theres A Constant Struggle Going On About How Much Will Be Illegal And How Much You Will Be Free To Take. Can We Open The Pharmacies? Can We Put Valium And Percodan And Those Sorts Of Things Out On The Shelves? I Wouldn't Take It. I Don't Know.

Death Was No Less A Miracle Than Birth.

But This Wealth Of Information Produced Little Or No Insight.

I Guess When You Turn Off The Main Road, You Have To Be Prepared To See Some Funny Houses.