Seems As Unfounded ... To Say There

The Deadliest Blow The Enemy Of The Human Soul Can Strike Is To Do Fury Honor. . . . Official Acceptance Is The One Unmistakable Symptom That Salvation Is Beaten Again, And Is The One Surest Sign Of Fatal Misunderstanding, And Is The Kiss Of Judas.

It's Kind Of A Test, Mary, And It's The Only Kind That Amounts To Anything. When Something Rotten Like This Happens, Then You Have Your Choice. You Start To Really Be Alive, Or You Start To Die. That's All.

Just Spunk Won't Be Enough; You've Got To Have Gumption.

And No Matter What, There's Not One Thing In This World *or* The Next That We Can Do Or Hope Or Guess At Or Wish Or Pray That Can Change It Or Help It One Iota. Because Whatever Is, Is. That's All. And All There Is Now Is To Be Ready For It, Strong Enough For It, Whatever It May Be. That's All. That's All That Matters. It's All That Matters Because It's All That's Possible.

...but You Are Too Much For Them: The Weak In Courage Are Strong In Cunning; And One By One, You Have Absorbed And Have Captured And Dishonored, And Have Distilled Of Your Deliverers The Most Ruinous Of All Poisons; People Hear Beethoven In Concert Halls, Or Over A Bridge Game, Or To Relax; Cézannes Are Hung On Walls, Reproduced, In Natural Wood Frames; Van Gogh Is The Man Who Cut Off His Ear And Whose Yellows Became Recently Popular In Window Decoration.