Life is always walking up to us and saying, "Come on in, the living's fine," and what do we do? Back off and take its picture.

In America nothing dies easier than tradition.

Journalism was being whittled away by a Wall Street theory that profits can be maximized by minimizing the product.

Skins tanned to the consistency of well-traveled alligator suitcases.

It is fitting that yesteryear's swashbuckling newspaper reporter has turned into today's solemn young sobersides nursing a glass of watered white wine after a day of toiling over computer databases in a smoke-free, noise-free newsroom.

It seems to be a law in American life that whatever enriches us anywhere except in the wallet inevitably becomes uneconomic.

Situation comedy on television has thrived for years on 'canned' laughter, grafted by gaglines by technicians using records of guffawing audiences that have been dead for years.