But Life Is A Battle: May We

When We Are Struck At Without A Reason, We Should Strike Back Again Very Hard; I Am Sure We Should - So Hard As To Teach The Person Who Struck Us Never To Do It Again.

Misery Generates Hate.

I Like To See Flowers Growing, But When They Are Gathered, They Cease To Please. I Look On Them As Things Rootless And Perishable; Their Likeness To Life Makes Me Sad. I Never Offer Flowers To Those I Love; I Never Wish To Receive Them From Hands Dear To Me.

Who Has Words At The Right Moment?

For Those Who Are Not Hungry, It Is Easy To Palaver About The Degradation Of Charity.