If You Have No Enemies, You Have

Newman's Second Law: Just When Things Look Darkest, They Go Black.

I Don't Go For The So-called "intimate" Stuff. Column Items That Report: "minerva Ferncroft Sleeps In Pink Dusting Powder Between Puce-colored Sheets In A Heart-shaped Bed." It Leaves Me Cold.

I'm Like A Good Cheese. I'm Just Getting Mouldy Enough To Be Interesting.

I Wish I Could Recall With Clarity The Impulse That Compelled Me To Help Bring This Camp Into Being. I'd Be Pleased If I Could Announce A Motive Of Lofty Purpose. I've Been Accused Of Compassion, Of Altruism, Of Devotion To Christian, Hebrew, And Muslim Ethic, But However Desperate I Am To Claim Ownership Of A High Ideal, I Cannot. I Wanted, I Think, To Acknowledge Luck; The Chance Of It, The Benevolence Of It In My Life, And The Brutality Of It In The Lives Of Others, Made Especially Savage For Children Because They May Not Be Allowed The Good Fortune Of A Lifetime To Correct It.

I Certainly Never Expected To Be A Professional Actor. I Never Expected To Be In Movies. I Thought I Would Probably Become A Teacher.