I'm Weary Of The Battle. But A

You Could Reason With Someone Who Was Halfway Educated And Appeal To His Intelligence, But I Felt Helpless In The Face Of Utter Stupidity.

As Much As There Is Joy In Writing, There's Always The Little Bit Of Terror To Keep You On Edge, On Your Toes. It Is A Strange Way To Occupy Yourself - To Enjoy Your Life On A Daily Basis. There Is No Guarantee That Something Great Is Going To Come Next.

And He Did See--that Life Was Rotten, That There Were No Heroes, Really, And That You Couldn't Trust Anybody, Not Even Yourself.

He Was Swept With A Sadness, A Sadness Deep And Penetrating, Leaving Him Desolate Like Someone Washed Up On A Beach, A Lone Survivor In A World Full Of Strangers.

Don't Miss The Bus, Boy. You're Missing A Lot Of Things In The World, Better Not Miss That Bus.