A Page Of Good Prose

The Organizations Of Men, Like Men Themselves, Seem Subject To Deafness, Near-sightedness, Lameness, And Involuntary Cruelty. We Seem Tragically Unable To Help One Another, To Understand One Another.

Love With Its Paraphernalia Of Sexuality, Jealousy, Nostalgia And Exaltation Was Easier To Reognize Than Friendship, Which Seemed To Have (excepting Athletic Equipment) No Paraphernalia At All.

Then It Is Dark; It Is A Night Where Kings In Golden Suits Ride Elephants Over The Mountains.

There Is A Terrible Sameness To The Euphoria Of Alcohol And The Euphoria Of Metaphor.

For These Are Not As They Might Seem To Be, The Ruins Of Our Civilization, But Are Temporary Encampment And Outposts Of The Civilization That We - You And I - Shall Build.