Like Michelangelo And Cellini, Florentines Of Every

The Breakdown Of Our Language, Evident In The Misuse, I.e., The Misunderstanding Of Nouns And Adjectives, Is Most Grave, Though Perhaps Not So Conspicuous, In The Handling Of Prepositions, Those Modest Little Connectives That Hold The Parts Of A Phrase Or A Sentence Together. They Are The Joints Of Any Language, What Make It, Literally, Articulate.

Maybe Any Action Becomes Cowardly Once You Stop To Reason About It.

The Dictator Is Also The Scapegoat; In Assuming Absolute Authority, He Assumes Absolute Guilt; And The Oppressed Masses, Groaning Under The Yoke, Know Themselves To Be Innocent As Lambs, While They Pray Hypocritically For Deliverance.

Labor Is Work That Leaves No Trace Behind It When It Is Finished, Or If It Does, As In The Case Of The Tilled Field, This Product Of Human Activity Requires Still More Labor, Incessant, Tireless Labor, To Maintain Its Identity As A 'work' Of Man.

What's The Use Of Falling In Love If You Both Remain Inertly As You Were?