The Very Rich And The

Life Can't Ever Really Defeat A Writer Who Is In Love With Writing, For Life Itself Is A Writer's Lover Until Death – Fascinating, Cruel, Lavish, Warm, Cold, Treacherous, Constant.

I Never Go To Weddings. Waste Of Time. Person Can Get Married A Dozen Times. Lots Of Folks Do. Family Like Ours, Know Everybody In The State Of Texas And Around Outside, Why, You Could Spend Your Life Going To Weddings. But A Funeral, That's Different. You Only Die Once.

Wasn't Marriage, Like Life, Unstimulating And Unprofitable And Somewhat Empty When Too Well Ordered And Protected And Guarded. Wasn't It Finer, More Splendid, More Nourishing, When It Was, Like Life Itself, A Mixture Of The Sordid And The Magnificent; Of Mud And Stars; Of Earth And Flowers; Of Love And Hate And Laughter And Tears And Ugliness And Beauty And Hurt.

Christmas Is Not A Season. It Is A Feeling.

The Goat's Business Is None Of The Sheep's Concern.