I Had Wanted Life Not To Bother

Reading And Life Are Not Separate But Symbiotic. And For This Serious Task Of Imaginative Discovery And Self-discovery, There Is And Remains One Perfect Symbol: The Printed Book.

History Isn't The Lies Of The Victors, As I Once Glibly Assured Old Joe Hunt; I Know That Now. It's More The Memories Of The Survivors, Most Of Whom Are Neither Victorious Or Defeated.

Does History Repeat Itself, The First Time As Tragedy, The Second Time As Farce? No, That's Too Grand, Too Considered A Process. History Just Burps, And We Taste Again That Raw-onion Sandwich It Swallowed Centuries Ago.

This Is What Those Who Haven’t Crossed The Tropic Of Grief Often Fail To Understand: The Fact That Someone Is Dead May Mean That They Are Not Alive, But Doesn’t Mean That They Do Not Exist.

I Dreamt That I Woke Up. It's The Oldest Dream Of All, And I've Just Had It