The Leading Cause Of Death Is Birth.

About The Presence Of Death And Dying I Don't Remember The Society In The 1950s Being So Skittish As It Has Since Become. People Still Died At Home, Among Relatives And Friends, Often In The Care Of A Family Physician. Death Was Still To Be Seen Sitting In The Parlor, Hanging In A Butcher Shop, Sometimes Lying In The Street.

The Rich, Like Well Brought Up Children, Are Meant To Be Seen, Not Heard.

The Playing Field Is More Sacred Than The Stock Exchange, More Blessed Than Capital Hill Or The Vaults Of Fort Knox. The Diamond And The Gridiron -- And, To A Lesser Degree, The Court, The Rink, The Track, And The Ring -- Embody The American Dream Of Eden.

But The Line Of Thought That I'd Been Chasing For Several Days Was Implicit In The Ruins Of The Old Roman Empire, Which Gradually Destroyed Itself By Substituting The Faith In A Legion Of Miraculous Words For The Strength Of Armies And The Weight Of Walls.

We Need Not Seek Our Own Best Selves, And In The Meantime We Inoculate Ourselves Against The Viruses Of Age And Idealism, Which, As The Advertising Agencies Well Know, Depress Sales And Sour The Feasts Of Consumption.