There Is No Such Thing As A

Perfectionism Spells Paralysis.

Far Be It From Me To Paint A Rosy Picture Of The Future...but I Should Be Failing In My Duty If, On The Other Side, I Were Not To Convey The True Impression, That This Great Nation Is Getting Into Its War Stride.

This War Proceeds Along Its Terrible Path By The Slaughter Of Infantry...i Say To Myself Every Day. What Is Going On While We Sit Here, While We Go Away To Dinner Or Home To Bed? Nearly, 1000 - Englishmen, Britishers, And The Other Is America...everything Else Is Swept Away.

The World Looks With Some Awe Upon A Man Who Appears Unconcernedly Indifferent To Home, Money, Comfort, Rank, Or Even Power And Fame. The World Feels Not Without A Certain Apprehension, That Here Is Someone Outside Its Jurisdiction; Someone Before Whom Its Allurements May Be Spread In Vain; Some One Strangely Enfranchised, Untamed, Untrammelled By Convention, Moving Independent Of The Ordinary Currents Of Human Action.

I Get My Exercise Being A Pallbearer For Those Of My Friends Who Believed In Regular Running And Calisthenics.