"It was nakedly and shamelessly futile: slavery was on the decline, and would have gone out of existence by the end of the 19th Century from determinism, merely because the economic structure of the industrial revolution and the ownership of humans are incompatible.

"Given this imbalance, it should have been a quick in-and-out war. But, as with World War I (for which, technologically, it was the precursor) it went on and on, draining resources, ruining the land, killing almost 650,000 men, wounding another 200,000. The tolls for death and disfigurement were four times greater than those of World Wars I and II."

"For instance, there's the matter of pet names. He called Laura his little plum, she called him her 'Pillow Plumsicles.' She wrote notes to him signed, 'Your Tottle Bug.' We used to thrash around like a couple of crazed weasels, he told Vanity Fair. He dubbed her 'Ku Klux.' Why? Because she is a wizard in the sheets."

"Now I was being instructed by Goofy to raise my right hand and place my left hand on a Bible that was positively vibrating. Do you hereby swear, asked Goofy, that the testimony you are about to give in the cause now on trial before this court and jury shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God? The truth for me was that LSD --- or any other catalyst for getting in closer touch with your subconscious; whether it be meditation, Zen, yoga --- served as a reminder that choices are being made every moment. So naturally I assumed that Goofy was offering me a choice. No, I replied."

"They also drew pictures: García-Lorca in sideburns, a goatee, and a great mushroom cloud of an afro; a García-Lorca who was nothing but a mound of afro; and --- in a drawing which I think of as an extraordinary metaphor for a poet --- García-Lorca as a tiny, tiny man with a huge afro sprouting apples. One boy went even further, drawing García-Lorca's alter ego, García-Loco.

"I have no idea why they found that afro so captivating --- or why I did, too. But at one point this boy lifted his head and said with a look of serious dreaminess (and he was usually a wild boy, who found it almost impossible to keep still), Is this what a poem is? Just making things up?

"Yes, I said, that's exactly what it is."

"'Save a couple of the Navy buildings for a community center,' I said. The rest of the land would be divided into plots twenty feet by twenty feet, which, if done right, could shelter some 1500 families. Lots would be awarded by lottery solely to those who could prove that they were below the poverty level, the very poorest getting the highest priorities."

"This is a man who was driven --- so driven, that after finally giving up on the project, he wrote, "'Pittsburgh, to me, is a failure...the main problem, I think, is that there is no end to such a subject as Pittsburgh and no way to finish it."

"We knew about the Death March at Bataan, and medical experiments they did on live patients. What we didn't know about was what they did to the Chinese and other Asians. In the occupied territories, the death rate for the nationals totaled some 100,000 a month --- through forced labor, starvation, and outright murder. That's 100,000 Asians dying, every month, for three or more years.

"Our dropping the bombs on Nagasaki and Hiroshima, he tells us, not only brought the war to an end, it saved hundreds of thousands of lives in the occupied countries, and, ironically --- saved even more lives of the Japanese. For in the few days after they had declared war --- and in the following months of peace, the Russians killed off 350,000 Japanese (mostly non-military). If the Russians had invaded the island of Hokkaido --- their contingent plan --- Frank claims that the Russians would have murdered everyone in sight."

"If you have never read Agee you might consider the possibility of dropping this review and calling up the American Book Exchange or Powells to get a copy of Let Us Now Praise Famous Men so that you don't have to waste your time in having me tell you what a fine piece of work it is. Barring that, let me say that it's the work of a young man (twenty-seven) who knows words and knows how to use them and wants us to see and hear and smell and feel what it is like to be intimately involved with three families who are certainly not famous but certainly are poor --- dirt poor as we used to say."

"Somewhere, five thousand years ago, in Chaldea, or at the edge of the Euphrates, there must have been a good, nonjudgmental, non-critical, supportive listener. In India, at the time of the birth of the Masters, there was another kind of Master, wasn't there? --- an early Master of the Masters, not saying No, or What you are thinking is wrong, or You have sinned --- but rather, giving forth with an understanding phrase: It may be best not to judge others or even yourself, he might have said. The dreams, he would say: They are hard to give up, aren't they? Harder, even perhaps, than giving up the anger..."

She: 'I can't help it, doctor! He's the only man who really likes me --- the only man who doesn't think I'm fat.'

He: 'You're being self-destructive, Can't you see what a wonderful woman you are? Sick, but wonderful.'

Then, below: 'My Heart Said Yes --- But My Therapist Said No!' It's True Love Romances for today."

"These photographs, almost a hundred in number, are a wonderful peek at a culture of artful difference. Some of the tattoos are delicate, understated. But some are a poke in the face, so to speak, at the world.

"Sinn Dog's decoration, running across the lower half of his face --- like a mask --- including nose, lips, cheeks and chin, proclaims MONGREL FOR LIFE. He is an ominous-looking dude, with or without tattoo. Meeting him in a bar, I would suspect most of us would speak to him with caution and some care. His life-time sign, right there before your eyes, says it all."