A Man Who Has Never Made A

The Human Mind Appears Suddenly And Inexplicably Out Of Some Unknown And Unimaginable Void. It Passes Half Its Known Life In The Mental Chaos Of Sleep. Even When Awake It Is A Victim Of Its Own Ill-adjustment, Of Disease, Of Age, Of External Suggestion, Of Nature's Compulsions; It Doubts Its Own Sensations And Trusts Only In Instruments And Averages.

We've Had Bad Luck With Our Kids - They've All Grown Up.

The Courage Of The Poet Is To Keep Ajar The Door That Leads Into Madness.

Why Do They Put The Gideon Bibles Only In The Bedrooms, Where It's Usually Too Late...?

In Every Man's Heart There Is A Secret Nerve That Answers To The Vibrations Of Beauty.