This Is An Age Of Scientific Wonders.

Edmonton Is Not The End Of The World But You Can Certainly See It From There.

Mr. Bernard Died On A Monday, At The Age Of Seventy-five, His Body Wasted. He Lay In State For Two Days In The Lobby Of The Bernard Gursky Tower And, As He Failed To Rise On The Third, He Was Duly Buried.

The Process Hasn't Changed, But The Writer Has Developed. I Still Get Up Every Morning And Go To Work.

I Don't Hold With Shamans, Witch Doctors, Or Psychiatrists. Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Or Even Dickens, Understood More About The Human Condition Than Ever Occurred To Any Of You. You Overrated Bunch Of Charlatans Deal With The Grammar Of Human Problems, And The Writers I've Mentioned With The Essence.

I Have Always Been Skeptical Of Medical Orthodoxies, Because Sooner, Rather Than Later, So Many Of Them Are Turned On Their Heads. Or, Put Another Way, Providing You Are Prepared To Wait It Out, What Was Adjudged Bad For You Yesterday Is Likely To Prove Beneficial Today.