A Man With A Club [bat] Is

Life Is Not A Matter Of Holding Good Cards, But Sometimes, Playing A Poor Hand Well.

I Was Carrying A Beautiful Alcoholic Conflagration Around With Me. The Thing Fed On Its Own Heat And Flamed The Fiercer. There Was No Time, In All My Waking Time, That I Didn't Want A Drink. I Began To Anticipate The Completion Of My Daily Thousand Words By Taking A Drink When Only Five Hundred Words Were Written. It Was Not Long Until I Prefaced The Beginning Of The Thousand Words With A Drink.

The Effect Of Civilization Is To Impose Human Law Upon Environment Until It Becomes Machine-like In Its Regularity. The Objectionable Is Eliminated, The Inevitable Is Foreseen. One Is Not Even Made Wet By The Rain Nor Cold By The Frost; While Death, Instead Of Stalking About Gruesome And Accidental, Becomes A Prearranged Pageant, Moving Along A Well-oiled Groove To The Family Vault, Where The Hinges Are Kept From Rusting And The Dust From The Air Is Swept Continually Away.

Man Is Man Because He Chanced To Develop Intelligence Instead Of Instinct; Otherwise He Would To This Day Have Remained Among The Anthropoid Apes. He Has Turned Away From Nature, Become Unnatural, As It Were, Disliked The Earth Upon Which He Found Himself, And Changed The Face Of It Somewhat To His Liking.

The Man, With His Brain, Can Pierce The Intoxicating Mirage Of Things And Contemplate A Frozen Universe In The Most Perfect Indifference To Him And His Dreams.