Words Are A Commodity In Which There

One Of The Penalties Of Being A Human Being Is Other Human Beings.

Between Ourselves, There Is No Such Thing, Abstractly, As A 'good' Book. A Book Is 'good' Only When It Meets Some Human Hunger Or Refutes Some Human Error.

Truth, Like Milk, Arrives In The Dark But Even So, Wise Dogs Don't Bark. Only Mongrels Make It Hard For The Milkman To Come Up The Yard.

Truth Is What Every Man Sees Lurking At The Bottom Of His Own Soul, Like The Oyster Shell Housewives Put In The Kitchen Kettle To Collect The Lime From The Water. By And By Each Man's Iridescent Oyster Shell Of Truth Becomes Coated With The Lime Of Prejudice And Hearsay.

Act Like You Expect To Get Into The End Zone.