There Are Times When Every Act, No

There Follows A Little Obscenity Here, A Dash Of Philosophy There, Considerable Whining Overall, And A Modern Satirical Novel Is Born.

I Took A Little Celebrational Nap.

My Grandmother Refused To Concede That Any Member Of The Family Died Of Natural Causes. An Uncle's Cancer In Middle Age Occurred Because All The Suitcases Fell Off The Luggage Rack Onto Him When He Was In His Teens, And So Forth. Death Was An Acquired Characteristic.

Moral Self-infatuation Has Its Own Corruptions, After All. With Time, Almost Every Other Principle Of The Magazine Acquired An Ironic Echo, A Sort Of Cackling Aftermath.

The Style Of Flirtation Specific To Classrooms Was Of Service To The Students All Their Lives.