All Bad Things Are Exaggerated In The

Life Is Like Invading Russia. A Blitz Start, Massed Shakos, Plumes Dancing Like A Flustered Henhouse; A Period Of Svelte Progress Recorded In Ebullient Despatches As The Enemy Falls Back; Then The Beginning Of A Long, Morale-sapping Trudge With Rations Getting Shorter And The First Snowflakes Upon Your Face. The Enemy Burns Moscow And You Yield To General January, Whose Fingernails Are Very Icicles. Bitter Retreat. Harrying Cossacks. Eventually You Fall Beneath A Boy-gunner's Grapeshot While Crossing Some Polish River Not Even Marked On Your General's Map.

You Can Put It Another Way, Of Course; You Always Can.

Global Warming Is More Of A Blessing Than A Curse.

Wisdom Consists Partly In Not Pretending Anymore, In Discarding Artifice.

A Pier Is A Disappointed Bridge; Yet Stare At It For Long Enough And You Can Dream It To The Other Side Of The Channel.