The truth will always have a market.
I had woven a tapestry of obscenity that as far as I know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan.
Randy lay there like a slug. It was his only defense.
The hand of fate had dipped into the ragbag of humanity.
A man today never feels so alive as when he is hurtling from one point to another on the azimuth.
Can you imagine 4,000 years passing, and you're not even a memory? Think about it, friends. It's not just a possibility. It is a certainty.