I Don't Ask For The

It's Odd Being An American Now. Most Of Us Are Peaceful, But Here We Are Again, In Our Fifth Major War Of This Century.

One Thing Is Certain: For Many Of Those Who Came Back From Wwii, The Music Of Frank Sinatra Was No Consolation For Their Losses. Some Had Lost Friends. Some Had Lost Wives And Lovers. All Had Lost Portions Of Their Youth. More Important To The Sinatra Career The Girls Started Marrying The Men Who Came Home. Bobby Socks Vanished From Many Closets. The Girls Who Wore Them Had No Need Anymore For Imaginary Lovers; They Had Husbands. Nothing Is More Embarrassing To Grownups Than The Passions Of Adolescence, And For Many, Frank Sinatra Was The Passion.

Human Beings Want To Know Too Much Abut Each Other, And That's Why There Are So Many Lies.

The Best Newspapermen I Know Are Those Most Thrilled By The Daily Pump Of City Room Excitements; They Long Fondly For A Good Murder; They Pray That Assassinations, Wars, Catastrophes Break On Their Editions.

There Are 10,000 Books In My Library, And It Will Keep Growing Until I Die. This Has Exasperated My Daughters, Amused My Friends And Baffled My Accountant. If I Had Not Picked Up This Habit In The Library Long Ago, I Would Have More Money In The Bank Today; I Would Not Be Richer.