There Is A Mistaken Idea, Ancient But

It Must Not Simply Be Taken For Granted That A Given Set Of Ill-assorted People, For No Other Reason Than Because It Is Christmas, Will Be Joyful To Be Reunited And To Break Bread Together.

I Was Horribly Self-conscious; I Wanted Everybody To Look At Me And Think Me The Most Fascinating Creature In The World, And Yet I Died A Small Hideous Death If I Saw Even One Person Throw A Casual Glance At Me.

One Martini Is Just Right. Two Martinis Are Too Many. Three Martinis Are Never Enough.

In Spite Of All The Talk And Study About Our Next Years, All The Silent Ponderings About What Lies Within Them...it Seems Plain To Us That Many Things Are Wrong In The Present Ones That Can Be, Must Be, Changed. Our Texture Of Belief Has Great Holes In It. Our Pattern Lacks Pieces.

There Are Many People Like Me Who Believe Firmly, If Somewhat Incoherently, That Pockets On This Planet Are Filled With What Humans Have Left Behind Them, Both Good And Evil, And That Any Such Spiritual Accumulation Can Stay There Forever, Past Definition Of Such A Stern Word.