The night before I left Las Vegas I walked out in the desert to look at the moon. There was a jeweled city on the horizon, spires rising in the night, but the jewels were diadems of electric and the spires were the neon of signs ten stories high. – Norman Mailer
With the pride of the artist, you must blow against the walls of every power that exists the small trumpet of your defiance. – Norman Mailer
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