A Stoic Of The Woods,--a Man Without

Where The Scriptures Speak, We Speak; Where The Scriptures Are Silent, We Are Silent.

On The Green Banks Of Shannon, When Sheelah Was Nigh, No Blithe Irish Lad Was So Happy As I, No Harp Like My Own Could So Cheerily Play, And Wherever I Went Was My Poor Dog Tray.

Love! The Surviving Gift Of Heaven, The Choicest Sweet Of Paradise, In Life's Else Bitter Cup Distilled.

The Popularity Of That Baby-faced Boy, Who Possessed Not Even The Elements Of A Good Actor, Was A Hallucination In The Public Mind, And A Disgrace To Our Theatrical History.

Your Belief Systems Limit Your Reality To A Sub-set Of The Solution Space That Does Not Contain The Answer.