Soccer, Metaphor For War, At Times Turns

I Am Quite Prehistoric, Absolutely Prehistoric.

This Work Is A Torture On The Rump But A Joy To The Heart.

When A Book Is Alive, Really Alive, You Feel It. You Put It To Your Ear Here, And You Feel It Breathe, Sometimes Laugh, Sometimes Cry, Just Like A Person, A Little Person.

Poets And Beggars, Musicians And Prophets, Warriors And Scoundrels, All Creatures Of That Unbridled Reality, We Have Had To Ask But Little Of Our Imagination, For Our Crucial Problem Has Been A Lack Of Conventional Means To Render Our Lives Believable. This, My Friends, Is The Crux Of Our Solitude.

We Live In A World That Treats The Dead Better Than The Living. We, The Living Are Askers Of Questions And Givers Of Answers, And We Have Other Grave Defects Unpardonable By A System That Believes Death, Like Money, Improves People.