Humor Is Almost Always Anger With Its

The Act Of Writing Itself Is Done In Secret, Like Masturbation.

I'm Seen As Somebody Who Writes For Adults Because I'm An Older Man Myself. Some Of Them Find Me, And A Lot Of Them Don't.

You Can Go Through Your Whole Life Telling Yourself That Life Is Logical, Life Is Prosaic, Life Is Sane. Above All Sane. And I Think It Is. I've Had A Lot Of Time To Think About That. And What I Keep Coming Back To Is [her] Dying Declaration: 'so You Understand That When We Increase The Number Of Variables, The Axioms Themselves Never Change.'

It Was How Wars Really Ended, Dieffenbaker Supposed -- Not At Truce Tables But In Cancer Wards And Office Cafeterias And Traffic Jams. Wars Died One Tiny Piece At A Time, Each Piece Something That Fell Like A Memory, Each Lost Like An Echo That Fades In Winding Hills. In The End Even War Ran Up The White Flag. Or So He Hoped. He Hoped That In The End Even War Surrendered.

Mornings Belong To Whatever Is New; The Current Composition. Afternoons Are For Naps And Letters.