My Cousin Elroy Spent Seven Years As

James Joyce Buried Himself In His Great Work. _finnegan's Wake_ Is His Monument And His Tombstone. A Dead End.

Too Many American Authors Have A Servile Streak Where Their Backbone Should Be. Where's Our Latest Nobel Laureate? More Than Likely You'll Find Him In The Rose Garden Kissing The First Lady's Foot.

If You're Never Ridden A Fast Horse At A Dead Run Across A Desert Valley At Dawn, Be Of Good Cheer: You've Only Missed Out On One Half Of Life.

Industrial Tourism Is A Threat To The National Parks. But The Chief Victims Of The System Are The Motorized Tourists. They Are Being Robbed And Robbing Themselves. So Long As They Are Unwilling To Crawl Out Of Their Cars They Will Not Discover The Treasures Of The National Parks And Will Never Escape The Stress And Turmoil Of The Urban-suburban Complexes Which They Had Hoped, Presumably, To Leave Behind For A While.

Nothing Could Be Older Than The Daily News, Nothing Deader Than Yesterday's Newspaper.