In America, It Is Difficult To Be

I Was A Gift To My Mother. She Was A Remarkable Person. God Or Nature, Or Whatever Those Forces Are, Smiled On Her, Then Passed Me The Best Of Her.

I Couldn't Adjust To The Racism In Florida. It Was So Blatant... I Had Never Been So Described As Florida Described Me.

We're All Imperfect, And Life Is Simply A Perpetual, Unending Struggle Against Those Imperfections.

I Don't Very Often Read Novels.

I Know How Easy It Is For One To Stay Well Within Moral, Ethical, And Legal Bounds Through The Skillful Use Of Words - And To Thereby Spin, Sidestep, Circumvent, Or Bend A Truth Completely Out Of Shape. To That Extent, We Are All Liars On Numerous Occasions.