We Must Cultivate, All Of Us, A

There Is Nothing More Humanly Beautiful Than A Woman's Breasts. Nothing More Humanly Beautiful, Nothing More Humanly Mysterious Than Why Men Should Want To Caress, Over And Over Again, With Paintbrush Or Chisel Or Hand, These Oddly Curved Fatty Sacs, And Nothing More Humanly Endearing Than Our Complicity (i Mean The Complicity Of Women) In Their Obsession.

Long Visits Don't Make For Good Friends.

Belief May Be No More, In The End, Than A Source Of Energy, Like A Battery Which One Clips Into An Idea To Make It Run.

Was It Serious? I Don't Know. It Certainly Had Serious Consequences.

So It Has Come, The Day Of Testing. Without Warning, Without Fanfare, It Is Here, And He Is In The Middle Of It. In His Chest His Heart Hammers So Hard That It Too, In Its Dumb Way, Must Know. How Will They Stand Up To The Testing, He And His Heart?