Baseball Is A Game Played By Idiots

But I Always Felt That I'd Rather Be Provincial Hot-tamale Than Soup Without Seasoning.

That's The Whole Burden Of This Novel - The Loss Of Those Illusions That Give Such Color To The World That You Don't Care Whether Things Are True Or False As Long As They Partake Of The Magical Glory.

He Looked At Her And For A Moment She Lived In The Bright Blue Worlds Of His Eyes, Eagerly And Confidently.

But They Were Frightened At His Survivant Will, Once A Will To Live, Now Become A Will To Die.

Well, Let It Pass, He Thought; April Is Over, April Is Over. There Are All Kinds Of Love In The World, But Never The Same Love Twice. --the Sensible Thing