Bourbon Does For Me What The Piece

My Mother Refused To Let Me Fail. So I Insisted.

The Mystery Lies In The Here And Now. The Mystery Is: What Is One To Do With Oneself? As You Get Older You Begin To Realize The Trick Time Is Playing, And That Unless You Do Something About It, The Passage Of Time Is Nothing But The Encroachment Of The Horrible Banality Of The Past On The Pure Future. The Past Devours The Future Like A Tape Recorder, Converting Pure Possibility Into Banality. The Present Is The Tape Head, The Mouth Of Time. Then Where Is The Mystery And Why Bother Kicking Through The Ashes? Because There Is A Clue In The Past.

There Is No Pain On This Earth Like Seeing The Same Woman Look At Another Man The Way She Once Looked At You.

The Conviction: I Will Not Tolerate This Age. The Freedom: The Freedom To Act On My Conviction. And I Will Act. No One Else Has Both The Conviction And The Freedom. Many Agree With Me, Have The Conviction, But Will Not Act. Some Act, Assassinate, Bomb, Burn, Etc., But They Are The Crazies. Crazy Acts By Crazy People. But What If One, Sober, Reasonable, And Honorable Man Should Act, And Act With Perfect Sobriety, Reason, And Honor? Then You Have The Beginning Of A New Age. We Shall Start A New Order Of Things.

Other People, So I Have Read, Treasure Memorable Moments In Their Lives: The Time One Climbed The Parthenon At Sunrise, The Summer Night One Met A Lonely Girl In Central Park And Achieved With Her A Sweet And Natural Relationship, As They Say In Books. I Too Once Met A Girl In Central Park, But It Is Not Much To Remember. What I Remember Is The Time John Wayne Killed Three Men With A Carbine As He Was Falling To The Dusty Street In Stagecoach, And The Time The Kitten Found Orson Welles In The Doorway In The Third Man.