JEAN SHEPHERD

Can you imagine 4,000 years passing, and you're not even a memory? Think about it, friends. It's not just a possibility. It is a certainty.

That reminds me of something that happened to me when I was a kid.

The reality of what we really are is often times found in the small snips, way down at the bottom of things.

The hand of fate had dipped into the ragbag of humanity.

Randy lay there like a slug. It was his only defense.

I've met them down in the Cost and Accounting Department, clean-shaven and in white collars. They can't see a damn thing ridiculous about themselves... only about you.

A man today never feels so alive as when he is hurtling from one point to another on the azimuth.

The truth will always have a market.

Manhattan cabs are born old.

I had been an eyewitness to a truly historic moment in American pop culture.

That reminds me of something that happened to me when I was a kid.

I've met them down in the Cost and Accounting Department, clean-shaven and in white collars. They can't see a damn thing ridiculous about themselves... only about you.

I had been an eyewitness to a truly historic moment in American pop culture.

The hand of fate had dipped into the ragbag of humanity.

The Bumpuses were so low down on the evolutionary totem pole that they weren't even included in Darwin's famous family tree. They had inbred and ingrown and finally emerged from the Kentucky hills like some remnant of Attila the Hung's barbarian horde. Flick said that they had webbed feet and only three toes. It might have been true.

The reality of what we really are is often times found in the small snips, way down at the bottom of things.

Being a White Sox fan meant measuring victory in terms of defeat. A 6-5 defeat was a good day. A big rally was Wally Moses doubling down the right- field line.

In God we trust; all others pay cash.

Can you imagine 4,000 years passing, and you're not even a memory? Think about it, friends. It's not just a possibility. It is a certainty.

A man today never feels so alive as when he is hurtling from one point to another on the azimuth.

In all my years of New York cab riding I have yet to find the colorful, philosophical cabdriver that keeps popping up on the late movies.

I had woven a tapestry of obscenity that as far as I know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan.

The truth will always have a market.

Some men are Baptists, others Catholics; my father was an Oldsmobile man.

Manhattan cabs are born old.

Randy lay there like a slug. It was his only defense.