I Have Dictated Stories From An Airport

When You're A Sportswriter, You Learn How To Use Your Imagination And To Flex Your Literary Muscle, Because It's The Same Game Played Over And Over Again. There's Nothing Unique Or Marvelous. It's Not An Earthquake, Or A Weird Mass Murder. It's Just The Same Old Game Played Over And Over, And You Have To Bring Out The Personalities. You Have To Drag Them Kicking And Screaming Out Into The Light Of Day, Or You're Not A Good Sportswriter.

But I Hope I Will Never Have A Life That Is Not Surrounded By Books, By Books That Are Bound In Paper And Cloth And Glue, Such Perishable Things For Ideas Have Lasted Thousands Of Years . . . I Hope I Am Always Walled In By The Very Weight And Breadth And Clumsy, Inefficient, Antiquated Bulk Of Them, Hope That I Spend My Last Days On This Earth Arranging And Rearranging Them On Thrones Of Good, Honest Pine, Oak, And Mahogany, Because I Just Like To Look At Their Covers, And Dream Of The Promise Of The Great Stories Inside.

Like Most Men, Jimmy Jim Was Neither All Good Nor All Bad. It Is Just That When He Was Bad, Gentler People Saw In Him A Disturbing Fury. People, A Lot Them, Don't Understand Fury. They Understand Anger And Even Hatred, But Fury Is One Of Those Old Words That Have Gone Out Of Style. Jimmy Jim Bundrum Understood It. It Rode His Shoulder Like A Parrot.

The Haitians, Who Knew Something About Suffering And Survival, Had A Beautiful Phrase... The Translation Is Not Perfect, But The Nut Of It Was: 'the Season Of Pain Is Never Over Until The Sky Begins To Cry.

Every Life Deserves A Certain Amount Of Dignity, No Matter How Poor Or Damaged The Shell That Carries It.