The Sense Of A Long Last Night

When I Read It ["tough Guys Don't Dance"], I Don't Wince, Which Is All I Ever Ask For A Book I Write.

The Night Before I Left Las Vegas I Walked Out In The Desert To Look At The Moon. There Was A Jeweled City On The Horizon, Spires Rising In The Night, But The Jewels Were Diadems Of Electric And The Spires Were The Neon Of Signs Ten Stories High.

Tough Guys Don't Dance. You Had Better Believe It.

Reaching Consensus In A Group Is Often Confused With Finding The Right Answer.

The Sense Of A Long Last Night Over Civilization Is Back Again; It Has Perhaps Not Been Here So Intensely In Thirty Years, Not Since The Nazis Were Prospering, But It Is Coming Back.