He's Liked, But He's Not Well Liked.

Few Occasions Are As Joyous To Small Children As Funerals, Almost Better Than The Big Wedding Blowouts That Take Place At Night When It's Hard To Stay Awake. A Small Boy Will Never Be Harshly Criticized At A Funeral; He Is More Treasured As Death Comes Close And All His Wickedness Vanishes Before The Inescapable Fact That Thank God, He Is Healthy.

A Political Policy Is Equated With Moral Right, And Opposition To It With Diabolical Malevolence.

The Brain Heals The Past Like An Injury.

There Is Unquestionably A Contradiction Between An Efficient Technological Machine And The Flowering Of Human Nature, Of The Human Personality.

Proctor, His Mind Wild, Breathless: I Say--i Say--god Is Dead!