Further Strengthenings Of The Self-centered Instinct For

America Is About Class. To Pretend That It Isn't Is Very Ignorant. No Society Has Ever Existed Without Some Kind Of A Ruling Class.

Talk About The Flag Or Drugs Or Crime (never About Race Or Class Or Justice) And Follow The Yellow Brick Road To The Wonderful Land Of Consensus. In Place Of Honest Argument Among Consenting Adults The Politicians Substitute A Lullaby For Frightened Children: The Pretense That Conflict Doesn't Really Exist, That We Have Achieved The Blessed State In Which We No Longer Need Politics.

From Authors Whom I Read More Than Once I Learn To Value The Weight Of Words And To Delight In Their Meter And Cadence -- In Gibbon's Polyphonic Counterpoint And Guedalla's Command Of The Subjunctive, In Mailer's Hyperbole And Dillard's Similes, In Twain's Invectives And Burlesques With Which He Set The Torch Of His Ferocious Wit To The Hospitality Tents Of The World's Colossal Humbug . . . I Know No Other Way Out Of What Is Both The Maze Of The Eternal Present And The Prison Of The Self Except With A String Of Words.

As Many As Six Out Of Ten American Adults Have Never Read A Book Of Any Kind, And The Bulletins From The Nation’s Educational Frontiers Read Like The Casualty Reports From A Lost War.

If We Could Let Go Of Our Faith In Money, Who Knows What We Might Put In Its Place?