If I Could Do My Life Over,

While We Are Reading, We Are All Don Quixote.

I Tried Good Taste, But The Strain Was Too Much For Me.

Was There A Little Time Between The Invention Of Language And The Coming Of True And False?

The Pointless Ferocities Of Intellectual Life Shock Businessmen, Who Kill Only To Eat.

Self-satisfaction And Self-pity Are Both Condemned. What Are People Permitted To Feel About Themselves?