If You Are Losing Your

Our Names Are Labels, Plainly Printed On The Bottled Essence Of Our Past Behavior.

Money And Sex Are Forces Too Unruly For Our Reason; They Can Only Be Controlled By Taboos With Which We Tamper At Our Peril.

Fine Writers Should Split Hairs Together, And Sit Side By Side, Like Friendly Apes, To Pick The Fleas From Each Others Fur.

It Is The Dread Of Something Happening, Something Unknown And Dreadful, That Makes Us Do Anything To Keep The Flicker Of Talk From Dying Out.

Most People Sell Their Souls, And Live With A Good Conscience On The Proceeds.