The Game Of Life Is

Avoid The Unhappy Ending, The Harsh, The Brutal, The Tragic, The Horrible -- If You Care To See In Print Things You Write. (in This Connection Don't Do As I Do, But Do As I Say.

On The Sled, In The Box, Lay A Third Man Whose Toil Was Over, - A Man Whom The Wild Had Conquered And Beaten Down Until He Would Never Move Nor Struggle Again. It Is Not The Way Of The Wild To Like Movement. Life Is An Offense To It, For Life Is Movement; And The Wild Aims Always To Destroy Movement.

There Is An Ecstasy That Marks The Summit Of Life, And Beyond Which Life Cannot Rise. And Such Is The Paradox Of Living, This Ecstasy Comes When One Is Most Alive, And It Comes As A Complete Forgetfulness That One Is Alive.

There Are, Broadly Speaking, Two Types Of Drinkers. There Is The Man Whom We All Know, Stupid, Unimaginative, Whose Brain Is Bitten Numbly By Numb Maggots; Who Walks Generously With Wide-spread, Tentative Legs, Falls Frequently In The Gutter, And Who Sees, In The Extremity Of His Ecstasy, Blue Mice And Pink Elephants.... The Other Type Of Drinker Has Imagination, Vision. Even When Most Pleasantly Jingled He Walks Straight And Naturally, Never Staggers Nor Falls, And Knows Just Where He Is And What He Is Doing. It Is Not His Body But His Brain That Is Drunken.

Men Do Not Knowingly Drink For The Effect Alcohol Produces On The Body. What They Drink For Is The Brain-effect; And If It Must Come Through The Body, So Much The Worse For The Body.