I have heard show business characterized as a refuge for childlike persons in flight from all things harsh and real.

As I approach my 88th birthday it's become apparent to me that my eyes and ears among other appurtenances aren't quite what they used to be. The prospect of long flights to wherever in search of whatever are not quite as appealing.

Since graduation I have measured time in 4-by-5-inch pieces of paper four days on the left and three on the right. Every social engagement interview reading flight doctor's appointment birthday and dry-cleaning reminder has been handwritten between metal loops.

Fear of error which everything recalls to me at every moment of the flight of my ideas this mania for control makes men prefer reason's imagination to the imagination of the senses. And yet it is always the imagination alone which is at work.