Bleeding Ulcers Run In My Family, We

Your Father Calls You To His Court. You Need Not Pack. You Go Garbed In Glorious Raiment. He Waits Eagerly By His Palace Doors To Welcome You, And Has Prepared A Place At The High Table, By His Side, In The Company Of The Great-souled, Honored, And Best-beloved.

You Don't Pay Back Your Parents. You Can't. The Debt You Owe Them Gets Collected By Your Children, Who Hand It Down In Turn. It's A Sort Of Entailment. Or If You Don't Have Children Of The Body, It's Left As A Debt To Your Common Humanity. Or To Your God, If You Possess Or Are Possessed By One. The Family Economy Evades Calculation In The Gross Planetary Product. It's The Only Deal I Know Where, When You Give More Than You Get, You Aren't Bankrupted - But Rather, Vastly Enriched.

It Was Never What I Wanted To Buy That Held My Heart's Hope. It Was What I Wanted To Be.

Any Communitys Arm Of Force - Military, Police, Security - Needs People In It Who Can Do Necessary Evil, And Yet Not Be Made Evil By It. To Do Only The Necessary And No More. To Constantly Question The Assumptions, To Stop The Slide Into Atrocity.

Miles Exhaled Carefully, Faint With Rage And Reminded Grief. He Does Not Know, He Told Himself. He Cannot Know... "ivan, One Of These Days Somebody Is Going To Pull Out A Weapon And Plug You, And You're Going To Die In Bewilderment, Crying, "what Did I Say? What Did I Say?" "what Did I Say?" Asked Ivan Indignantly.