Words Are The Only Bullets In Truth's

I Loved Almost Everything About Being A Teacher, But I Was An Unusual Teacher

The Victorians, They Were Like The Germans In World War Ii. They Could Not Stop Recording Details About Their Lives And Their Age.

Books ... Were Merely Nodes In A Near-infinite Matrix Of Information That Exists In Four Dimensions, Evolving Toward The Idea Of The Concept Of The Approximation Of The Shadow Of Truth Vertically Through Time As Well As Longitudinally Through Knowledge.

There Were Reprints Of American Editorials. Liberals Saw It As A Resurgence Of Social Protest And Decried The Discrimination, Poverty, And Hunger That Had Provoked It. Conservative Columnists Acidly Pointed Out That Hungry People Don't Steal Stereo Systems First And Called For A Crackdown In Law Enforcement. All Of The Reasoned Editorials Sounded Hollow In Light Of The Perverse Randomness Of The Event. It Was As If Only A Thin Wall Of Electric Lighting Protected The Great Cities Of The World From Total Barbarism.

Sometimes ... Dreams Are All That Separate Us From The Machines.