Credit . . . is the only enduring testimonial to man's confidence in man.
But now the shots began—not many, but one shot is a fusillade if there have been no shots before.
In retrospect, each of the steps toward this abyss seemed irrevocable, and yet they had all been so small!
Who does it hurt? That's who the story is about.
The omelette tasted like flannel.
Now that I'm a free agent I mean to make my own choices, and explain them to nobody if that's what pleases me.
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