So Much In Writing Depends On The

How Often The Priest Had Heard The Same Confession--man Was So Limited: He Hadn't Even The Ingenuity To Invent A New Vice: The Animals Knew As Much. It Was For This World That Christ Had Died: The More Evil You Saw And Heard About You, The Greater The Glory Lay Around The Death; It Was Too Easy To Die For What Was Good Or Beautiful, For Home Or Children Or Civilization--it Needed A God To Die For The Half-hearted And The Corrupt.

Any Man Who Knocks On The Door Of A Brothel Is Looking For God.

Death Was Far More Certain Than God.

What Happens If You Drop All The Things That Make You I?

I Had Very Good Dentures Once. Some Magnificent Gold Work. It's The Only Form Of Jewelry A Man Can Wear That Women Fully Appreciate.