Poor Faulkner. Does He Really Think Big

Every Day Is A New Day. It Is Better To Be Lucky. But I Would Rather Be Exact. Then When Luck Comes You Are Ready.

The People That I Liked And Had Not Met Went To The Big Cafes Because They Were Lost In Them And No One Noticed Them And They Could Be Alone In Them And Be Together.

Today Is Only One Day In All The Days That Will Ever Be. But What Will Happen In All The Other Days That Ever Come Can Depend On What You Do Today. It's Been That Way All This Year. It's Been That Way So Many Times. All Of War Is That Way.

There Was No Really Good True War Book During The Entire Four Years Of The War. The Only True Writing That Came Through During The War Was In Poetry. One Reason For This Is That Poets Are Not Arrested As Quickly As Prose Writers.

Religion Is Like An Ice Cold Whiskey On A Hot Day.