I Respect A Man Who Can Recognize

I Respect A Man Who Can Recognize A Quotation. It's A Dying Art.

Whhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! The Scream Of Jet Engines Rises To A Crescendo On The Runways Of The World. Every Second, Somewhere Or Other, A Plane Touches Down, With A Puff Of Smoke From Scorched Tyre Rubber, Or Rises In The Air, Leaving A Smear Of Black Fumes Dissolving In Its Wake. From Space, The Earth Might Look To A Fanciful Eye Like A Huge Carousel, With Planes Instead Of Horses Spinning Round Its Circumference, Up And Down, Up And Down. Whhheeeeeeeeeee!

Perhaps That's What We're All Looking For - Desire Undiluted By Habit.

Morris Read Through The Letter. Was It A Shade Too Fulsome? No, That Was Another Law Of Academic Life: It Is Impossible To Be Excessive In Flattery Of One's Peers.

Every Decoding Is Another Encoding.