He Have His Goodness Now. God Forbid

The Famous Are Balloons Far Up In The Sky, To Be Envied For Their Quiet Freedom Or Shot Down As Enemies.

He's Not The Finest Character That Ever Lived. But He's A Human Being, And A Terrible Thing Is Happening To Him. So Attention Must Be Paid.

When The Guns Roar, The Arts Die.

The Very Impulse To Write Springs From An Inner Chaos Crying For Order - For Meaning.

I Came Out Of A Culture In Which My Uncle, My Father - They Were All Salesmen Of One Kind Or Another. My Father Was A Manufacturer. He Also, In Effect, Had To Sell That Stuff. And If He Didn't Literally Do It, His Men Did. So, Selling Was In The Air Through My Boyhood. The Whole Idea Of Successfully Selling Was Very Important.