Too many American authors have a servile streak where their backbone should be. Where's our latest Nobel laureate? More than likely you'll find him in the Rose Garden kissing the First Lady's foot.

By the age of forty, a man is responsible for his face. And his fate.

Little boys love machines; girls adore horses; grown-up men and women like to walk.

Freedom begins between the ears.

America My Country: last nation on earth to abolish human slavery; first of all nations to drop the nuclear bomb on our fellow human beings.

An empty man is full of himself.

Every moment is precious. And precarious.