Ah, Well. Life's Too Short For Moderation,

But History Is A Faithless Teller Whose Cruel Recourse To Hindsight Makes Fools Of Its Actors.

True Love, It's Like An Illness. I Never Understood It Before. In Books And Plays. Poems. I Never Understood What Drove Otherwise Intelligent, Right-thinking People To Do Such Extravagant, Irrational Things. Now I Do. It's An Illness. You Can Catch It When You Least Expect. There's No Known Cure. And Sometimes, In Its Most Extreme, It's Fatal.

She Says There Are Stories Everywhere And That People Who Wait For The Right One To Come Along Before Setting Pen To Paper End Up With Very Empty Pages.

Happiness In Life Is Not A Given, It Must Be Seized.

She Was The Breeze On A Summer's Day, The First Drops Of Rain When The Earth Was Parched, Light From The Evening Star.