Sampson wanted to be “a seven-foot-four guard.” He was too pretty to be a soldier. Against the profoundly overmatched Chaminade, he took just nine shots and let his unbeatable team lose to a bunch of beach bum nobodies. He was the greatest, but he wasn’t that great.

You do not build your own houses, nor make your own garments, nor bake your own bread, simply because you know that if you were to attempt all these things they would all be more or less ill done.

They deserved nothing less than the truth--a vacant universe and a cooling world, the right to be happy in any way they chose.

Written By Saumya Vaish

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