All Men Are Brothers And Each Man

Life Is A Thin Narrowness Of Taken-for-granted, A Plank Over A Canyon In A Fog.

Making The Best Of Things Is A Damn Poor Way Of Dealing With Them. My Life Has Been A Series Of Escapes From That Quicksand.

I Can Imagine Nothing More Wonderful Than Always Wanting To Keep A Man. It's This Not Wanting To Keep Them, And Yet Not Quite Being Able To Disentangle One's Self, Never Quite Having The Ruthlessness To Stike At The Hands On The Gunwale With An Oar Until They Let Go - That's The Horrible Thing.

The First Twenty Years Of My Life Were Wasted. I Didn't Fit My Environment, And I Didn't Know Any Other.

No State, No Government Exists. What Does In Fact Exist Is A Man, Or A Few Men, In Power Over Many Men.