Sometimes Words Are Not Enough.

I Don’t Smoke, Although It Looks Fantastic In Films. But I Light Matches On Those Thinking Blank Nights When I Crawl My Route Out Onto The Roof Of The Garage And The Sky While My Parents Sleep Innocent And The Lonely Cars Move Sparse On The Faraway Streets, When The Pillow Won’t Stay Cool And The Blankets Bother My Body No Matter How I Move Or Lie Still. I Just Sit With My Legs Dangling And Light Matches And Watch Them Flicker Away.

A Newspaper, As I'm Sure You Know, Is A Collection Of Supposedly True Stories Written Down By Writers Who Either Saw Them Happen Or Talked To People Who Did. These Writers Are Called Journalists, And Like Telephone Operators, Butchers, Ballerinas, And People Who Clean Up After Horses, Journalists Can Sometimes Make Mistakes.

It Is Easy To Decide On What Is Wrong To Wear To A Party, Such As Deep-sea Diving Equipment Or A Pair Of Large Pillows, But Deciding What Is Right Is Much Trickier.

Those Unable To Catalog The Past Are Doomed To Repeat It.

For Some Stories, It's Easy. The Moral Of 'the Three Bears,' For Instance, Is "never Break Into Someone Else's House.' The Moral Of 'snow White' Is 'never Eat Apples.' The Moral Of World War I Is 'never Assassinate Archduke Ferdinand.