Each Mind Has Its Own Method.

I Cannot Find Language Of Sufficient Energy To Convey My Sense Of The Sacredness Of Private Integrity.

Rude Poets Of The Tavern Hearth, Squandering Your Unquoted Mirth, Which Keeps The Ground, And Never Soars, While Jake Retorts, And Reuben Roars; Tough And Screaming, As Birch-bark, Goes Like Bullet To Its Mark; While The Solid Curse And Jeer Never Balk The Waiting Ear.

Good Bye, Proud World! I'm Going Home; Thou Art Not My Friend, And I'm Not Thine

Don't Be Pushed By Your Problems. Be Led By Your Dreams.

Sometimes A Scream Is Better Than A Thesis.