There Are Years That Ask

Some People Could Look At A Mud Puddle And See An Ocean With Ships.

When One Is Too Old For Love, One Finds Great Comfort In Good Dinners.

You Have No Idea, Sir, How Difficult It Is To Be The Victim Of Benevolence.

I Do Not Pray. . . . I Do Not Expect God To Single Me Out And Grant Me Advantages Over My Fellow Men. . . . Prayer Seems To Me A Cry Of Weakness, And An Attempt To Avoid, By Trickery, The Rules Of The Game As Laid Down. I Do Not Choose To Admit Weakness. I Accept The Challenge Of Responsibility.

I Have The Nerve To Walk My Own Way, However Hard, In My Search For Reality, Rather Than Climb Upon The Rattling Wagon Of Wishful Illusions.