The Seed Of The Idea Is Developed

Nothing Is So Musical As The Sound Of Pouring Bourbon For The First Drink On A Sunday Morning. Not Bach Or Schubert Or Any Of Those Masters.

The Curt Truth Is That, In A Deep Secret Way, The State Of Being Beloved Is Intolerable To Many. The Beloved Fears And Hates The Lover, And With The Best Of Reasons. For The Lover Is Forever Trying To Strip Bare His Beloved. The Lover Craves Any Possible Relation With The Beloved, Even If This Experience Can Cause Him Only Pain.

It Is Music That Causes The Heart To Broaden And The Listener To Grow Cold With Ecstasy And Fright.

Justice Itself Is A Chimera, A Delusion. Justice Is Not A Flat Yardstick, Applied In Equal Measure To An Equal Situation.

For Fear Is A Primary Source Of Evil. And When The Question "who Am I?" Recurs And Is Unanswered, Then Fear And Frustration Project A Negative Attitude. The Bewildered Soul Can Answer Only: "since I Do Not Understand 'who I Am,' I Only Know What I Am Not." The Corollary Of This Emotional Incertitude Is Snobbism, Intolerance And Racial Hate. The Xenophobic Individual Can Only Reject And Destroy, As The Xenophobic Nation Inevitably Makes War.