I Woke Up Thinking A Very Pleasant

I Would Like To Visit The Factory That Makes Train Horns, And Ask Them How They Are Able To Arrive At That Chord Of Eternal Mournfulness. Is It Deliberately Sad? Are The Horns Saying, Be Careful, Stay Away From This Train Or It Will Run You Over And Then People Will Grieve, And Their Grief Will Be As The Inconsolable Wail Of This Horn Through The Night? The Out-of-tuneness Of The Triad Is Part Of Its Beauty.

Shoes Are The First Adult Machines We Are Given To Master.

True, The Name Of The Product Wasn't So Great. Kindle? It Was Cute And Sinister At The Same Time - Worse Than Edsel, Or Probe, Or Microsoft's Bob. But One Forgives A Bad Name. One Even Comes To Be Fond Of A Bad Name, If The Product Itself Is Delightful.

I Wrote About World War Ii Because I Didn't Understand It. I Think That's The Reason That Historians Are Drawn To Any Subject - There's Something About It That Doesn't Make Sense. I Wanted To Work My Way Through What Happened Slowly, And Look At Everything In The Order In Which It Took Place.

Books: A Beautifully Browsable Invention That Needs No Electricity And Exists In A Readable Form No Matter What Happens.