The Reporter Is The Daily

A Newspaper Is Lumber Made Malleable. It Is Ink Made Into Words And Pictures. It Is Conceived, Born, Grows Up And Dies Of Old Age In A Day.

A Good Writer Is Not, Per Se, A Good Book Critic. No More So Than A Good Drunk Is Automatically A Good Bartender.

Nobody Understands Anyone 18, Including Those Who Are 18.

At 19, Everything Is Possible And Tomorrow Looks Friendly.

It Is Difficult To Live In The Present, Ridiculous To Live In The Future, And Impossible To Live In The Past. Nothing Is As Far Away As One Minute Ago.