You Can't Brace Yourself For Famine If

They Were Jesuits," She Told Me. "that Means They Believe In God But Not In Terlet Paper. You Should Have Seen Their Underwear. Disgusting.

My Hands Tend To Be Full Enough Dealing With People Who Hate Me For Who I Am. Concentrate Too Hard On The Millions Of People Who Hate You For What You Are And You're Likely To Turn Into One Of Those Unkempt, Sloppy Dressers Who Sag Beneath The Weight Of The Two Hundred Political Buttons They Wear Pinned To Their Coats And Knapsacks.

Kools And Newports Were For Black People And Lower-class Whites. Camels Were For Procrastinators, Those Who Wrote Bad Poetry, And Those Who Put Off Writing Bad Poetry. Merits Were For Sex Addicts, Salems Were For Alcoholics, And Mores Were For People Who Considered Themselves To Be Outrageous But Really Weren't.

Scream At The Mangled Leather Carcass Lying At The Foot Of The Stairs, And My Parents Would Roar With Laughter. "that's What You Get For Leaving Your Wallet On The Kitchen Table.

Sometimes You Read Something And It's Just -- It Doesn't Invite A Reader....sometimes You Read Something And It's Not Saying, 'oh Come In, Come In Have A Seat. I'm Going To Tell You What Happened.' Perhaps My Writing Comes Off As Conversational...and That Takes Effort.