Hungry Ears Are Sharp Ones.

It Still Astounds Me, After Forty Years, That There Is No Good Bread Between Chicago And San Francisco.

When I Went To First Grade And The Other Children Said That Their Fathers Were Farmers, I Simply Didn't Believe Them. I Agreed In Order To Be Polite, But In My Heart I Knew That Those Men Were Impostors, As Farmers And As Fathers, Too. In My Youthful Estimation, Laurence Cook Defined Both Categories. To Really Believe That Others Even Existed In Either Category Was To Break The First Commandment.

The Brave View Is That Talking It Out Helps Work It Out. Maybe The Realistic View Is That Talking It Out Inflames The Issues Further. But That Is America, Especially These Days.

We Sort Of Read Two Or Three Big Newspapers But We Don't Get The Flavor Of The Local Events, The Local News As Much.

I Spent Part Of My College Years In A Marxist Commune. I Was Not A Marxist. I Wasn't Even Pretending To Be One. I Was A Marxist-in-law.