How Shall The Murdered Man Convince His

Only Against Death Does Man Cry Out In Vain.

How Alike Are The Groans Of Love To Those Of The Dying.

In The War To Come Correspondents Would Assume Unheard Of Importance, Plunging Through Flame To Feed The Public Its Little Gobbets Of Dehydrated Excrement.

What I Have Absolutely No Sympathy With Is The Legislator, The Man Who Seeks, For His Own Profit, To Exploit The Weaknesses Of Those Who Are Unable To Help Themselves And Then To Fasten Some Moral Superscription Upon It. This I Loathe So Much That I Cannot Conceivably Explain How Much It Is.

How, Unless You Drink As I Do, Could You Hope To Understand The Beauty Of An Old Indian Woman Playing Dominoes With A Chicken?