When In Trouble, Mumble.

There Was No Answer, No Solution, No Sop, No Deliverance. What, Then, Did I Do? I Read Faster.

In The Dark Colony Of Night, When I Consider Man's Magnificent Capacity For Malice, Madness, Folly, Envy, Rage, And Destructiveness, And I Wonder Whether We Shall Not End Up As Breakfast For Newts And Polyps, I Seem To Hear The Muffled Cries Of All The Words In All The Books With Covers Closed.

The Writer Wants To Be Understood Much More Than He Wants To Be Respected Or Praised Or Even Loved. And That, Perhaps, Is What Makes Him Different From Others.

Satire Is Focused Bitterness.

A Conservative Is One Who Admires Radicals Centuries After They're Dead.