When The Guns Roar, The Arts Die.

Most Of The Time We Settle For Half And I Like It Better, Even As I Know How Wrong He Was And His Death Useless, I Tremble For I Confess That Something Peversley Pure Calls To Me From His Memory

Nobody Dast Blame This Man. For A Salesman, There Is No Rock Bottom To The Life. He Don't Put A Bolt To A Nut, He Don't Tell You The Law Or Give You Medicine. He's A Man Way Out There In The Blue, Riding On A Smile And A Shoeshine. And When They Start Not Smiling Back -- That's An Earthquake. And Then You Get Yourself A Couple Of Spots On Your Hat, And You're Finished. Nobody Dast Blame This Man. A Salesman Is Got To Dream, Boy. It Comes With The Territory.

The Need Of Man To Wholly Realize Himself Is The Only Fixed Star.

Nevertheless, One Learned Very Early That Books Had To Be Respected; They Were All Putative Bibles And To Some Small Degree Had A Share In Holiness.

Few Of Us Can Easily Surrender Our Belief That Society Must Somehow Make Sense. The Thought That The State Has Lost Its Mind And Is Punishing So Many Innocent People Is Intolerable. And So The Evidence Has To Be Internally Denied.