I do not think we were afraid of death; life had become such an infinitely boring alternation between a period of stimulation which failed to stimulate and of depression which hardly even depressed.

Piety is not a goal but a means to attain through the purest peace of mind the highest culture.

The earth has a mouth?” Buckley asked. A big round mouth but with no lips,” my father said. Jack,” my mother said, laughing, “stop it. Do you know I caught him outside growling at the snapdragons?

As advertising blather becomes the nation&#39;s normal idiom, language becomes printed noise.

Written By George Will

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