A rose dreams of enjoying the company of bees, but none appears. The sun asks:  “Aren’t you tired of waiting?”  “Yes,” answers the rose, “but if I close my petals, I will wither and die.

It was a race he was running now, a race between his rent money and... he did not know the name of the other contestant. Perhaps it was every man whom he passed on the street.

Among skilled craftsmen—a category that included John Shakespeare—some 60 percent could read, a clearly respectable proportion.

Written By Larry David

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