From the Book of Nevers

Never

be mad on a full stomach.

What makes a martyr: the way he lived, or the way he died?

Remember: A particular desert only has room for ONE Vegas.

A guy out near the Bushes last Wednesday said, “People’s gushy sentiments toward what they call ‘god’ is just their unfocused desire to gather up all of humanity’s genes and hug ‘em to death.”

At a particular dry-spot on their landscape, poets seem unwaveringly to begin searching for a rhyme for either “god, death, or melancholy.”  Oh give me a home, where the Browning’s don’t roam.

J.