The rest pay an annual tax for this outside garment of all, become indispensable summer and winter, which would buy a village of Indian wigwams, but now helps to keep them poor as long as they live.

I dealt with it the same way I deal with everything. I just tended my own garden, didn't pay much attention, behaved—I suppose—deviously. I mean I didn't actually let too many people know what I was doing.

In Art, man reveals himself and not his objects.

He imagines they are uniformly smiling, showing the face they squeeze out with the toothpaste every morning.

Written By Don DeLillo

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