Delight In The Little Things.

Politicians. Little Tin Gods On Wheels.

When You're Wounded And Left On Afghanistan's Plains, And The Women Come Out To Cut Up What Remains, Jest Roll To Your Rifle And Blow Out Your Brains And Go To Your Gawd Like A Soldier.

Doctors Have Been Exposed-you Always Will Be Exposed-to The Attacks Of Those Persons Who Consider Their Own Undisciplined Emotions More Important Than The World's Most Bitter Agonies-the People Who Would Limit And Cripple And Hamper Research Because They Fear Research May Be Accompanied By A Little Pain And Suffering.

Ah! What Avails The Classic Bent And What The Cultured Word, Against The Undoctored Incident That Actually Occurred? And What Is Art Whereto We Press Through Paint And Prose And Rhyme- When Nature In Her Nakedness Defeats Us Every Time?

War Is An Ill Thing, As I Surely Know. But 'twould Be An Ill World For Weaponless Dreamers If Evil Men Were Not Now And Then Slain.