In Life There Is Not Time To

I Suspect That In Our Loathing Of Totalitarianism, There Is Infused A Good Deal Of Admiration For Its Efficiency.

Words Strain, Crack And Sometimes Break, Under The Burden, Under The Tension, Slip, Slide, Perish, Decay With Imprecision, Will Not Stay In Place, Will Not Stay Still.

A Book Is Not Harmless Merely Because No One Is Consciously Offended By It.

Probably, Indeed, The Larger Part Of The Labor Of An Author Composing His Work Is Critical Labor; The Labor Of Sifting, Combining, Constructing, Expunging, Correcting, Testing. This Frightful Toil Is As Much Critical As Creative.

And All Shall Be Well And/ All Manner Of Thing Shall Be Well/ By The Purification Of The Motive/ In The Ground Of Our Beseeching