Reporters Thrive On The World's Misfortune. For

In An Age When The Fashion Is To Be In Love With Yourself, Confessing To Be In Love With Somebody Else Is An Admission Of Unfaithfulness To One's Beloved.

Letter Writing Was Clearly Important To Reagan. Even As President He Kept Dashing Off Letters To Friends, Pen Pals, Media People, Statesmen, Critics, And The Kind Of People Who Write To Presidents Never Expecting A Reply.

So There He Is At Last. Man On The Moon. The Poor Magnificent Bungler! He Can't Even Get To The Office Without Undergoing The Agonies Of The Damned, But Give Him A Little Metal, A Few Chemicals, Some Wire And Twenty Or Thirty Billion Dollars And Vroom! There He Is, Up On A Rock A Quarter Of A Million Miles Up In The Sky.

The People Who Are Always Hankering Loudest For Some Golden Yesteryear Usually Drive New Cars.

I Am Sitting Here 93 Million Miles From The Sun On A Rounded Rock Which Is Spinning At The Rate Of 1000 Miles An Hour... And My Head Pointing Down Into Space With Nothing Between Me And Infinity But Something Called Gravity Which I Can't Even Understand, And Which You Can't Even Buy Any Place So As To Have Some Stored Away For A Gravityless Day.