If God Wanted Us To Act On

Just Because It's Fiction Doesn't Mean It's Any Less True.

Summertime, I Think, Is A Collective Unconscious. We All Remember The Notes That Made Up The Song Of The Ice Cream Man; We All Know What It Feels Like To Brand Our Thighs On A Playground Slide That's Heated Up Like A Knife In A Fire; We All Have Lain On Our Backs With Our Eyes Closed And Our Hearts Beating Across The Surface Of Our Lids, Hoping That This Day Will Stretch Just A Little Longer Than The Last One, When In Fact It's All Going In The Other Direction.

Ask A Kid Who's Struggling In Math If He Likes Being In A Mixed-level Class, And He'll Tell You He Feels Like A Moron. Ask The Math Genius If He Likes Being In A Mixed-level Class, And He'll Tell You He's Sick Of Doing All The Work During Group Projects. Sometimes, It's Better To Sort Like With Like.

Sometimes I Think The Human Heart Is Just A Simple Shelf. There Is Only So Much You Can Pile Onto It Before Something Falls Off An Edge And You Are Left To Pick Up The Pieces.

Any Highway . . . They All Take You To The Same Place, Don't They?