When Faced With Something I Fear, I

Truth Is No Rounder Than A Horse's Eye.

Of Course, You Would Have To Be Insane To Hope Your Child Grows Up To Be A Playwright Or Poet. Given The Odds, You Would Have To Be Quite Cavalier About Your Children's Future.

...i Returned To Walking Up The Mountain, And There, In The Dim Asexual Beauty Of Reddening Dawns And Skies That Firmed To Blue, I Discovered My Real And Appropriate Strengths.

Give The Money Directly To People Who Work Hard. Instead Of Taking The Money From The Business And Then Filtering It Through The Horror Of Government Programs, Which Is Essentially Giving It To Social Workers Who Live In Bethesda So They Can Drive Their Minivans And Vote Democratic. Give Them The Money, So That They Go And Talk To The Worker Who Is Washing Dishes, And They Say, "well, We Want To Help You, You See." And It Would Be Better To Help Them By Taking The Money From That Minivan-driving Social Worker And Giving It Directly To The Guy Who Is Really Working Hard By Washing Dishes.

Perhaps Passing Through The Gates Of Death Is Like Passing Quietly Through The Gate In A Pasture Fence. On The Other Side, You Keep Walking, Without The Need To Look Back. No Shock, No Drama, Just The Lifting Of A Plank Or Two In A Simple Wooden Gate In A Clearing. Neither Pain, Nor Floods Of Light, Nor Great Voices, But Just The Silent Crossing Of A Meadow.