My dear, Youth is a wonderful thing. What a crime to waste it on children. And what a horror to waste it on adults…. Sometimes I think we all misuse youth and that no one could use it better than the next. Ahhh, then I see a kid in an office building on a bright sunny day and I start to doubt myself. Falsely yours, George Bernard...

My dear, I don’t understand, Why should we take advice on sex from the Pope? If he knows anything about it, he shouldn’t! If anything we should be asking the people our mothers warned us against – the prostitutes, the nymphos, and the fiends. Sure, ask him about God, and charity, and about spirituality, but this bizarre practice of asking a virgin sex advice, frankly, it creeps me out. Falsely yours, George Bernard...

My dear, I want to be all used up when I die. I want nothing left. No tears, no smiles, no frowns, no joy, no sadness, no desires, no regrets – nothing. When I die I want all my resources to be at their lowest, nothing left in the bank. After-all, which car has more stories to tell: the perfect, shinny, sleek car with a full tank in the engine; or the dirt-everywhere, barely intact, running on empty, barely made it to the garage...

My dear, Dancing: The vertical expression of a horizontal desire legalized by music. If the dance does not in some way simmer with the craze and lust for life, the lust for contact with another human’s soul, and of another person’s body, then it’s not dance. Desire, desire, desire, desire. If your dance does not contain desire, then it’s hollow. It’s a performance. It’s an act. It’s a sham. Desire...

My dear, Marriage is the number one leading cause of divorce. One would deduce that: It is most unwise for people in love to marry. Hell, I don’t even think people in love should spend that much together in the first place. I can’t even stand myself for that long. Give me the passionate kisses, the fire-filled sex, and the calm mornings after. Give me the long walks, the fireside chats, and the warm embraces. Hell, you can even...

My dear, A government that robs Peter to pay Paul can always depend on the support of Paul. It’s simple. If you’re poor in any way you are Peter. You’re being robbed. You not only have a reason to hate your government, you should. And if you’re wealthy, unbelievably wealthy, you’re Paul. You have no reason to hate your government. You love your government. You support your government. But frankly, you (and...

My dear, Have you ever seen a man listen? I haven’t. All I see are men waiting, closing their mouths for just a brief moment, waiting for their turn to speak. Yet, it seems we’re all fine with this. Fine with talking to people who are basically walls with ears. Fine with calling that communication. I hate communication. There’s so many things wrong with it, and all leading from it’s single biggest problem. The...

My dear, I was on the verge of heartbreak seeing you off and disappear like that, and on such a nice summer day. You’ve been there for me through the hard times and the good. You’ve cheered me up even more every time I accomplished something great, and yet also found time to be there to caress me through my low points. And you’ve never once asked for anything back. Weeks without you are so unbearable, especially the...

My dear, There you are. Working a meaningless job because chasing after your dreams, and something meaningful, will cause you to starve on occasion. You are going to let the fear of poverty govern your life and your reward will be that you will eat, but you will not live. This job, filled with no purpose, that you have chosen just because your tummy is full, will not fill your soul. And I pray you leave it before it’s too...

My dear, The uttering of the Sun being the centre of the universe of blasphemous. The notion that all men and women should be treated equally was blasphemous. The Origin of Species was blasphemous. All great truths begin as blasphemies. Falsely yours, George Bernard...