A Writer Should Not Run Around With

In Riemann, Hilbert Or In Banach Space Let Superscripts And Subscripts Go Their Ways. Our Symptotes No Longer Out Of Phase, We Shall Encounter, Counting, Face To Face.

Have It Compose A Poem -- A Poem About A Haircut! But Lofty, Noble, Tragic, Timeless, Full Of Love, Treachery, Retribution, Quiet Heroism In The Face Of Certain Doom! Six Lines, Cleverly Rhymed, And Every Word Beginning With The Letter S!

What Gave You This Idea Of An Imperfect God?' 'i Don't Know. It Seems Quite Feasible To Me. That Is The Only God I Could Imagine Believing In, A God Whose Passion Is Not A Redemption, Who Saves Nothing, Fulfills No Purpose--a God Who Simply Is.

I Don't Resist Progress, But I Have A Growing Feeling That Mankind Uses It Mostly For Disgraceful Purposes.

No One Reads; If Someone Does Read, He Doesn't Understand; If He Understands, He Immediately Forgets.