The Story Of A Poor Man's Life

Here's A Strange Fact: Murder A Man, And You Feel Responsible For His Life - ''possessive'', Even. You Know More About Him Than His Father And Mother; They Knew His Fetus, But You Know His Corpse. Only You Can Complete The Story Of His Life, Only You Know Why His Body Has To Be Pushed Into The Fire Before Its Time, And Why His Toes Curl Up And Fight For Another Hour On Earth.

In A Sense, Being A Full-time Writer Is Less Fun Because There's No Office To Go To Anymore, There's No Set Routine, There's No Schedule. It Can Be Quite Isolating.

In India, It's The Rich Who Have Problems With Obesity. And The Poor Are Darker-skinned Because They Work Outside And Often Work Without Their Tops On So You Can See Their Ribs.

...the Future Of The World Lies With The Yellow Man And The Brown Man Now That Our Erstwhile Master, The White-skinned Man, Has Wasted Himself Through Buggery, Cell Phone Usage, And Drug Abuse

Never Before In Human History Have So Few Owed So Much To So Many, Mr. Jiabao. A Handful Of Men In This Country Have Trained The Remaining 99.9 Percent—as Strong, As Talented, As Inteligent In Every Way—to Exist In Perpetual Servitude; A Servitude So Strong That You Can Put The Key Of His Emancipation In A Man's Hands And He Will Throw It Back At You With A Curse.