But Whatever My Failure, I Have This

It Is Not Pleasant To Come Upon Death In A Lonely Place At Midnight.

It Was No Ape, Neither Was It A Man. It Was Some Shambling Horror Spawned In The Mysterious, Nameless Jungles Of The South, Where Strange Life Teemed In The Reeking Rot Without The Dominance Of Man, And Drums Thundered In Temples That Had Never Known The Tread Of A Human Foot.

A Woman In Such An Emotional Tempest Is As Perilous As A Blind Cobra To Any About Her.

For Man's Only Weapon Is Courage That Flinches Not From The Gates Of Hell Itself, And Against Such Not Even The Legions Of Hell Can Stand.

I Reckon If I Ever Marry, She Will Have To Be A Strong Woman In A Circus Or Something.