My Writing Is Nothing, My Boxing Is

Good Writing Is Good Conversation, Only More So.

Part Of You Died Each Year When The Leaves Fell From The Trees And Their Branches Were Bare Against The Wind And The Cold, Wintry Light.

I Felt The Death Loneliness That Comes At The End Of Every Day That Is Wasted In Your Life.

The Best Ammunition Against Lies Is The Truth, There Is No Ammunition Against Gossip. It Is Like A Fog And The Clear Wind Blows It Away And The Sun Burns It Off.

I Had Seen Nothing Sacred, And The Things That Were Glorious Had No Glory And The Sacrifices Were Like The Stockyards At Chicago If Nothing Was Done With The Meat Except To Bury It.