*image by Ben Harubin

 

In the City:
No gunfire is heard from the cemeteries.

Those with an agenda will never hear the doorbell ring.

A Man with a dictionary may still be a Man,
but a pig with a clarinet is another matter altogether.

How is it that to a Revolutionist a story can mean something, not mean something,
and then mean something all over again. Just for instance:

A guy who claimed to love his dog about as much as a human can love anything always
bought the same kind of food for his canine companion, and when asked about his insistence
on this one particular brand of dog food, he said that he purchased it because it "looked so
yummy to him," and the questioner replied that such a reason was spurious inasmuch
as a Man's sense of the delicious was not necessarily the same as that of a dog, and even
less so merely based on its visual appeal to the human, no matter HOW much he may
cherish his pet. And the dog's master replied, "May be, but you've missed the whole
point.'', which he had, didn't, and then some. How is it, you reckon, that to a Revolutionist life
can oftimes mean something, not mean something, and then mean something all over again?

In the City, anyone who gives you personal advice of any kind,
doesn't know what they're talking about.