If Shakespeare Were Alive Today And Writing

But Compared With The Task Of Selecting A Piece Of French Pastry Held By An Impatient Waiter A Move In Chess Is Like Reaching For A Salary Check In Its Demand On The Contemplative Faculties.

Sunday Morning May Be Cheery Enough, With Its Extra Cup Of Coffee And Litter Of Sunday Newspapers, But There Is Always Hanging Over It The Ominous Threat Of 3 P.m., When The Sun Gets Around To The Back Windows And Life Stops Dead In Its Tracks.

I Am More The Inspirational Type Of Speller. I Work On Hunches Rather Than Mere Facts, And The Result Is Sometimes Open To Criticism By Purists.

The Great Arizona Desert Is Full Of The Bleaching Bones Of People Who Waited For Me To Start Something.

One Cubic Foot Less Of Space And It Would Have Constituted Adultery.