It is ferocious, life, but it must eat . . .

I believe in the fatal hairdo just for the love of saying fatal hairdo.

Because who hasn’t tried to pull their arms from the sleeves of gravity’s lead coat?Who doesn’t have at least one pair of wax wings out in the garage?

Sometimes a name seems our most arbitrary possession,and sometimes it seems like the grain in a rocklike a sculptor’s hunk of Italian marble: Whack itand you might get either your first glimpse of a saintor...