Sometimes I Think With The Telephone That

When The Excessively Shy Force Themselves To Be Forward, They Are Frequently Surprisingly Unsubtle And Overdirect And Even Rude: They Have Entered An Extreme Region Beyond Their Normal Personality, An Area Of Social Crime Where Gradations Don't Count; Unavailable To Them Are The Instincts And Taboos That Booming Extroverts, Who Know The Territory Of Self-advancement Far Better, Can Rely On.

Rarely Do Pens Go Dry In Restaurants.

I Would Like To Visit The Factory That Makes Train Horns, And Ask Them How They Are Able To Arrive At That Chord Of Eternal Mournfulness. Is It Deliberately Sad? Are The Horns Saying, Be Careful, Stay Away From This Train Or It Will Run You Over And Then People Will Grieve, And Their Grief Will Be As The Inconsolable Wail Of This Horn Through The Night? The Out-of-tuneness Of The Triad Is Part Of Its Beauty.

I Certainly Felt I Had An Idea Of World War Ii, And It's Probably The Idea That Many People Share: There Was This Insane Aggressor, And There Was Really Only One Way To Proceed In Resisting Him. What I Didn't Realize Is That There Were Many Voices Belonging To Reasonable, Interesting, Complicated People Who Had A Different Way Of Interpreting The Possible Responses To The Hitlerian Menace.

You Can Register A Political Objection In A Number Of Ways.