The folly of mistaking a paradox for a discovery, a metaphor for a proof, a torrent of verbiage for a spring of capital truths, and oneself for an oracle, is inborn in us.
The folly of mistaking a paradox for a discovery, a metaphor for a proof, a torrent of verbiage for a spring of capital truths, and oneself for an oracle, is inborn in us.
When I face an issue of great import that cleaves both constituents and colleagues, I always take the same approach.…
Poem If the night flights keep you awake I will call London Airport and tell them to land their dangerous…
Flying Crooked The butterfly, a cabbage-white, (His honest idiocy of flight) Will never now, it is too late, Master the…