The Greatest Patriotism Is To Tell Your

Life Is Like Invading Russia. A Blitz Start, Massed Shakos, Plumes Dancing Like A Flustered Henhouse; A Period Of Svelte Progress Recorded In Ebullient Despatches As The Enemy Falls Back; Then The Beginning Of A Long, Morale-sapping Trudge With Rations Getting Shorter And The First Snowflakes Upon Your Face. The Enemy Burns Moscow And You Yield To General January, Whose Fingernails Are Very Icicles. Bitter Retreat. Harrying Cossacks. Eventually You Fall Beneath A Boy-gunner's Grapeshot While Crossing Some Polish River Not Even Marked On Your General's Map.

Women Scheme When They Are Weak, They Lie Out Of Fear. Men Scheme When They Are Strong, They Lie Out Of Arrogance.

Reading Is A Majority Skill But A Minority Art.

May You Be Ordinary, As The Poet Once Wished The New-born Baby.

History Is The Lies Of The Victors.