Turn Up The Lights. I Don't Want

If You Can't Write A Story That Pleases Yourself, You Will Never Please The Public. But In Writing The Story Forget The Public.

This Fair But Pitiless City Of Manhattan Was Without A Soul ... Its Inhabitants Were Manikins Moved By Wires And Springs.

Of Habit, The Power That Keeps The Earth From Flying To Pieces; Though There Is Some Silly Theory Of Gravitation.

[a]ll Of Life, As We Know It, Moves In Little, Unavailing Circles. More Justly Than To Anything Else, It Can Be Likened To The Game Of Baseball. Crack! We Hit The Ball, And Away We Go. If We Earn A Run (in Life We Call It Success) We Get Back To The Home Plate And Sit Upon A Bench. If We Are Thrown Out, We Walk Back To The Home Plate -- And Sit Upon A Bench.

There Is No Well Defined Boundary Line Between Honesty And Dishonesty. The Frontiers Of One Blend With The Outside Limits Of The Other, And He Who Attempts To Tread This Dangerous Ground May Be Sometimes In The One Domain And Sometimes In The Other.