All of us together, pretending to be happy, are what we appear to be.
Everywhere life returns to the Earth; everywhere there is romance and love and intercourse. And so I throw myself into it, with abandon, with all that I have. I have crossed the Lubicon, shouting, “Alea ejecta est!”
Did I not say I have been busy? Yes, I was busy. “Busy doing what?” you say. Busy crawling about the city, my ears stinking of cheese, willing into existence my world-historical conception.
Happy Birthday Ken
I have been summoned by the President-elect, Mr. Crusher. He wishes to speak to me of peace. Not only of peace, but of war. And not only of peace and of war, but of the Middle East. You see, Mr. Crusher believes that he can bring peace to the Middle East.