The World Is A Heap Of People,

I Go About The World, Hand Outstretched, And In The Stadiums I Plead: 'a Pretty Move, For The Love Of God.' And When Good Soccer Happens, I Give Thanks For The Miracle And I Don't Give A Damn Which Team Or Country Performs It.

This Work Is A Torture On The Rump But A Joy To The Heart.

Almost All Wars, Perhaps All, Are Trade Wars Connected With Some Material Interest. They Are Always Disguised As Sacred Wars, Made In The Name Of God, Or Civilization Or Progress. But All Of Them, Or Almost All Of The Wars, Have Been Trade Wars.

The Walls Are The Publishers Of The Poor.

When A Book Is Alive, Really Alive, You Feel It. You Put It To Your Ear Here, And You Feel It Breathe, Sometimes Laugh, Sometimes Cry, Just Like A Person, A Little Person.