Write What You Need To Write, Not

I Can Understand The Poor And Stupid Voting For Marxism Or One Of Its Fashionable Variants. If You've No Hope Of Being Other Than A Slave, You May As Well Opt For The Most Efficient Form Of Slavery.

I Am Fifty Years Old And I Have Never Known What It Is To Love. I Can Write Those Words, Know Them To Be True, But Feel Only The Regret That A Tone-deaf Man Must Feel Because He Can't Appreicate Music, A Regret Less Keen Because It Is For Something Never Known, Not For Something Lost.

Youth Goes Caparisoned In Immortality.

It Was Reasonable To Struggle, To Suffer, Perhaps Even To Die, For A More Just, A More Compassionate Society, But Not In A World With No Future Where, All To Soon, The Very Words "justice," "compassion," "society," "struggle," "evil," Would Be Unheard Echoes On An Empty Air.

It Is Surely Unreasonable To Credit That Only One Small Star In The Immensity Of The Universe Is Capable Of Developing And Supporting Intelligent Life. But We Shall Not Get To Them And They Will Not Come To Us.