You Can Find Your Way

For A While There, I Was A Stringer. The Expression Comes From The Old Habit Of Stringing Together The Column Inches That You Had Written. They'd Measure It And Pay You 10 Cents An Inch For Your Printed Copy.

I Don't Think I Had A Reputation As A Hard Worker, But Inside I Was Always Being Eaten Up By The Pressures.

I Think The Feature Reporter Often Walks A Very Thin Line Between A Truly Human Story And One That Slops Over Into Mushiness Or Sentimentality.

It Takes An Earthquake To Remind Us That We Walk On The Crust Of An Unfinished Planet.

The Sparrows Are Preparing For Winter, Each One Dressed In A Plain Brown Coat And Singing A Cheerful Song.