All We Have, It Seems To Me,

May Your Trails Be Crooked, Winding, Lonesome, Dangerous, Leading To The Most Amazing View. May Your Mountains Rise Into And Above The Clouds.

The Real Work Of Men Was Hunting Meat. The Invention Of Agriculture Was A Giant Step In The Wrong Direction, Leading To Serfdom, Cities, And Empire. From A Race Of Hunters, Artists, Warriors, And Tamers Of Horses, We Degraded Ourselves To What We Are Now: Clerks, Functionaries, Laborers, Entertainers, Processors Of Information.

When The Writer Has Done His Best, He Then Should Proceed To Do His Second Best.

Most New Books Drop Immediately Into The Oblivion They So Richly Deserve.

Life Imitates Art -- But Badly.