A steampunk nationBaby pollution rises up then the loving comes arraigning 'causeOur art's official and only partially artificialAnd our heart's in the middle of sharp hardened shards of metal butThere's not where it settlesBecause it's beating to the steaming of God's hottest pot or kettleAnd now we face it, this creation we made toTo save our craving for a synthetic rebelnation it'sOur safeway they make into a pathetic revelationIn our steampunk nationOur steampunk nation

The extent of creativity to which I admire in an individual is his ability to be richly creative while still, in a way, telling the truth. It is the fool who creates only his own lies, and the bore who simply repeats what he is told.

The sea in all its vastness is its own, real world. Man is nature's sci-fi.

The best of fiction, as we know, of course, doesn't tell the truth; it tales the truth.

I sometimes think as if I am corporate media; I put myself in their shoes: If I could profit off a situation, how would I spin it for the maximum amount of traffic yet still be taken seriously? This, I believe when listening, reading, or watching, helps to discern truth from fact and decipher fact from fiction. It helps to weed out the sensationalism, and you gain a more accurate depiction of the world's actual condition.