Around, Around The Sun We Go: The

Beauty Is That Medusa's Head Which Men Go Armed To Seek And Sever, And Dead Will Starve And Sting Forever.

We Have No Choice But To Be Guilty. God Is Unthinkable If We Are Innocent.

The Business Of The Law Is To Make Sense Of The Confusion Of What We Call Human Life - To Reduce It To Order But At The Same Time To Give It Possibility, Scope, Even Dignity.

Autumn Is The American Season. In Europe The Leaves Turn Yellow Or Brown, And Fall. Here They Take Fire On The Trees And Hang There Flaming. We Think This Frost-fire Is A Portent Somehow: A Promise That The Continent Has Given Us. Life, Too, We Think, Is Capable Of Taking Fire In This Country; Of Creating Beauty Never Seen.

Writers . . . Write To Give Reality To Experience.