I Think There's A General

In The Long Run, All Wrongs Are Righted, Every Minus Is Equalized With A Plus, The Columns Are Totaled And The Totals Are Found Correct. But That's In The Long Run. We Must Live In The Short Run And Matters Are Often Unjust There. The Compensating For Us Of The Universe Makes All The Accounts Come Out Even, But They Grind Down The Good As Well As The Wicked In The Process.

The Setting Sun Burned The Sky Pink And Orange In The Same Bright Hues As Surfers' Bathing Suits. It Was Beautiful Deception, Bosch Thought, As He Drove North On The Hollywood Freeway To Home. Sunsets Did That Here. Made You Forget It Was The Smog That Made Their Colors So Brilliant, That Behind Every Pretty Picture There Could Be An Ugly Story.

Everybody Counts Or Nobody Counts

There Is No End Of Things In The Heart. ...she Understood It To Mean That If You Took Something To Heart, Really Brought It Inside Those Red Velvet Folds, Then It Would Always Be There For You. No Matter What Happened, It Would Be There Waiting. She Said This Could Mean A Person, A Place, A Dream. A Mission. Anything Sacred. She Told Me That It Is All Connected In Those Secret Folds. Always. It Is All Part Of The Same And Will Always Be There, Carrying The Same Beat As Your Heart.

I'm A Disciple Of Raymond Chandler, Who Said In His Essays That There's A Quality Of Redemption In Anything That Can Be Called Art.