Author Archives: Linda Frye Burnham

Most people in America think Art is a man’s name. Art is what you can get away with. An artist is somebody who produces things that people do not need to have. You know it’s ART when the check clears. … Continue reading →

A sincere diplomat is like dry water or wooden iron. I trust no one, not even myself. I believe in one thing only, the power of human will. We would not let our enemies have guns, why should we let … Continue reading →

Brutal Desire, that rattle-trap streetcar banging through the Quarter, up one narrow street and down another. They told me, Take a streetcar named Desire, then transfer to the one called Cemetery, ride six blocks and get off at Elysian Fields. … Continue reading →

Being a sex symbol is a heavy load when you’re tired and hurt, bewildered. They treat you like a machine. They’ll pay you for a kiss  – a thousand dollars. And a nickel for your soul. I just hate to … Continue reading →

Scribble secret notebooks for your own joy, blowing deep as you want to blow. Write to those visionary tics, unspeakable, shivering inside yr chest. Be a dumbsaint of the mind, an old teahead of time, no fear or shame in … Continue reading →