There’s this about a farm: when the market’s good there’s money, and when it’s bad there’s food. - Theodore Sturgeon

I remember wondering smokily whether anyone ever loves a person. People seem to love dreams instead, and for the lucky ones, the person is close to the dream. But it’s a dream all the same, a sticky dream. You unload the person, and the dream stays with you.

Dear Mr. Garry,

Let us face it. Small considerations, magnified by the conventions, are not important to people like you and me. It is our duty to found a super-race together. My background of deep study into esoteric matters has convinced me that the only thing that can save the race is to people the world with the superior strain evident in both of us. I enclose a nude photograph of myself and will appreciate it if you will do likewise. I am thirty three years old and have kept myself sacrosanct awaiting this great moment.

Wrong as a squirrel with feathers, or a wolf with wooden teeth; not injustice, not unfairness — just a wrongness that, under the sky, could not exist.