The Examined Life Is No Picnic.

Sometimes History Knocks At The Most Ordinary Door To See If Anyone Is Home. Sometimes Someone Is.

I've Always Made A Clear Distinction Between Making A Life And Making A Living.

One Of The Very Few Reasons I Had Any Respect For My Mother When I Was Thirteen Was Because She Would Reach Into The Sink With Her Bare Hands - Bare Hands - And Pick Up That Lethal Gunk And Drop It Into The Garbage. To Top That, I Saw Her Reach Into The Wet Garbage Bag And Fish Around In There Looking For A Lost Teaspoon. Bare Hands - A Kind Of Mad Courage.

Think What A Better World It Would Be If We All - The Whole World - Had Cookies And Milk About Three O'clock Every Afternoon And Then Lay Down With Our Blankies For A Nap. Or If All Governments Had As A Basic Policy To Always Put Things Back Where They Found Them And To Clean Up Their Own Mess. And It Is Still True, No Matter How Old You Are - When You Go Out Into The World, It Is Best To Hold Hands And Stick Together.

We Could Learn A Lot From Crayons; Some Are Sharp, Some Are Pretty, Some Are Dull, While Others Bright, Some Have Weird Names, But They All Have Learned To Live Together In The Same Box.