The Book Shd. Be A

All My Life I Believed I Knew Something. But Then One Strange Day Came When I Realized That I Knew Nothing, Yes, I Knew Nothing. And So Words Became Void Of Meaning. I Have Arrived Too Late At Ultimate Uncertainty.

I Have Always Thought The Suicide Should Bump Off At Least One Swine Before Taking Off For Parts Unknown.

The History Of An Art Is The History Of Masterwork, Not Of Failures, Or Mediocrity.

A General Loathing Of A Gang Or Sect Usually Has Some Sound Basis In Instinct.

Good Writers Are Those Who Keep The Language Efficient. That Is To Say, Keep It Accurate, Keep It Clear.