Having A Lean And Hungry Look Was

Fear Looks Both Ways But Still Refuses To Cross; Fear Looks Twice And Still Doesn't Leap. ... Fear Usually Arrives Late, Inevitably Leaves Early, And Ends Up Never Going Out Of Town At All. Fear Is The Phantom Hand On The Back Of The Neck And The Sound Of A Door Opening Downstairs When No One Is Coming Home. ... Fear Grows Poor Because It Watches Others Gain Wealth But Cannot Enter The Fray; Fear Grows Sick Because It Eats Away At Heath Even As It Fears Its Diminishment; Fear Grows Old Watching Others Live In Ways That Seem To Threaten-but In Reality Only Enhance-life.

Anger Is The Quintessential Individual-signature Emotion: I Am What Makes Me Mad.

Truth Is Like Nuclear Waste: It Needs To Be Dealt With Carefully. Sometimes It Needs To Be Buried Way, Way Out Of Town. And Sometimes It Should Never Be Uncovered At All.

Anger Can Offer A Sense Of Indignity To Replace A Sense Of Shame, And Offer A Voice-raised Above Others-which Can Finally Be Heard. Those Voices Are Most Effective When They Are Raised In Unison, When They Have Mercy As Well As Anger Behind Them, And When, Instead Of Roaring At The Anger Of Old Pain, They Sing About The Glorious Possibilities Of A Future Where Anger Has A Smaller House Than Hope.

Once We Hit Forty, Women Only Have About Four Taste Buds Left: One For Vodka, One For Wine, One For Cheese, And One For Chocolate.