Put It Off For A Bit. All

But Where I Itty Now, O My Brothers, Is All On My Oddy Knocky, Where You Cannot Go. Tomorrow Is All Like Sweet Flowers And The Turning Vonny Earth And The Stars And The Old Luna Up There. ... And All That Cal.

That So Many Writers Have Been Prepared To Accept A Kind Of Martyrdom Is The Best Tribute That Flesh Can Pay To The Living Spirit Of Man As Expressed In His Literature. One Cannot Doubt That The Martyrdom Will Continue To Be Gladly Embraced. To Some Of Us, The Wresting Of Beauty Out Of Language Is The Only Thing In The World That Matters.

Literature Ceases To Be Literature When It Commits Itself To Moral Uplift; It Becomes Moral Philosophy Or Some Such Dull Thing.

...we're A Government That Believes In Everybody Having The Illusion Of Free Will.

For No Man Is Damned Precisely Because God Hath Not Chosen Him, Because He Is Not Elected, But Because He Is A Sinner, And Doth Wilfully Refuse The Means Of Grace Offered.