Our Memory Is A More Perfect World

You've Never Lived Until You've Almost Died. For Those Who Have Fought For It, Life Has A Flavor The Protected Shall Never Know.

Whatever You Want To Say, There Is Only One Word To Express It, Only One Verb To Give It Movement, Only One Adjective To Qualify It.

The Public Is Composed Of Numerous Groups Whose Cry To Us Writers Is: 'comfort Me.' 'amuse Me.' 'touch My Sympathies.' 'make Me Sad.' 'make Me Dream.' 'make Me Laugh.' 'make Me Shiver.' 'make Me Weep.' 'make Me Think.'

And Taking Her Friend’s Hand, She Put It On Her Breast, On That Firm Round Covering Of A Woman’s Heart Which The Male Often Finds So Satisfying That He Makes No Attempt To Find What Lies Beneath It.

We Live Always Under The Weight Of The Old And Odious Customs... Of Our Barbarous Ancestors.