There Is Nothing Like A Man For

The Problem With Death Is Absence

One Senses, In All Autobiography, A Straining Toward Perfection, Perfection Of A Kind That Connects The Individual With A Cosmic Pattern Which, Because It Is Perfect In Itself, Verifies That Individuals Own Potential Perfection.

Slum Kids Die Slowly, Their Lives Eroded At So Languid A Pace That Even They Would Have Trouble Tracing The Disintegration. To The Children Of War Death Explodes Like A Car Bomb.

Only By Moving In The Direction You Least Trust Can You Be Saved

Death Is Too Much For Men To Bear, Whereas Women, Who Are Practiced In Bearing The Deaths Of Men Before Their Own And Who Are Alsopracticed In Bearing Life, Take Death Almost In Stride. They Go To Meet Death--that Is, They Attempt Suicide--twice As Often As Men, Though Men Are More "successful" Because They Use Surer Weapons, Like Guns.