I Write Longhand And I Type And

...[a]nything Worth Dying For ... Is Certainly Worth Living For.

Someone Had To Do Something Sometime. Every Victim Was A Culprit, Every Culprit A Victim, And Somebody Had To Stand Up Sometime To Try To Break The Lousy Chain Of Inherited Habit That Was Imperiling Them All.

And Anything Worth Dying For

He Knew Everything About Literature Except How To Enjoy It.

How Much Reverence Can You Have For A Supreme Being Who Finds It Necessary To Include Such Phenomena As Phlegm And Tooth Decay In His Divine System Of Creation? What In The World Was Running Through That Warped, Evil, Scatological Mind Of His When He Robbed Old People Of The Power To Control Their Bowel Movements?