Life Seemed Even More Of A Guessing

If You’re That Clever You Can Argue Yourself Into Anything.

The Companionship Of Dead Writers Is A Wonderful Form Of Live Friendship.

Loving Humanity Means As Much, And As Little, As Loving Raindrops, Or Loving The Milky Way. You Say That You Love Humanity? Are You Sure You Aren’t Treating Yourself To Easy Self-congratulation, Seeking Approval, Making Certain You’re On The Right Side?

May You Be Ordinary, As The Poet Once Wished The New-born Baby.

Does History Repeat Itself, The First Time As Tragedy, The Second Time As Farce? No, That's Too Grand, Too Considered A Process. History Just Burps, And We Taste Again That Raw-onion Sandwich It Swallowed Centuries Ago.