Of What Does Politics Consist Except The

Recollections Of Early Childhood Bear Comparison To Fairy Tales, And ... Youth Remains An Unknown Country To Whose Bourn No Traveler Returns Except As The Agent Of A Foreign Power.

The Pose Of Innocence Is As Mandatory As The Ability To Eat Banquet Food And Endure The Scourging Of The Press.

From Authors Whom I Read More Than Once I Learn To Value The Weight Of Words And To Delight In Their Meter And Cadence -- In Gibbon's Polyphonic Counterpoint And Guedalla's Command Of The Subjunctive, In Mailer's Hyperbole And Dillard's Similes, In Twain's Invectives And Burlesques With Which He Set The Torch Of His Ferocious Wit To The Hospitality Tents Of The World's Colossal Humbug . . . I Know No Other Way Out Of What Is Both The Maze Of The Eternal Present And The Prison Of The Self Except With A String Of Words.

Let The Corporations Do As They Please -- Pillage The Environment, Falsify Their Advertising, Rig The Securities Markets -- And It Is None Of The Federal Government's Business To Interfere With The Will Of Heaven.

Let The Rabbit Of Free Enterprise Out Of Its Velveteen Bag And Too Many People Would Have To Be Fired, Too Much Idiocy Exposed To The Light Of Judgment Or Ridicule, Too Much Vanity Sacrificed To The Fires Of Efficiency. Such A Catastrophe Obviously Would Threaten The American Way Of Life, To Say Nothing Of The Belief In Free Markets.