For Hope Is Always Born At The

God Who Gives The Wound Gives The Salve.

I Had Rather Munch A Crust Of Brown Bread And An Onion In A Corner, Without Any More Ado Or Ceremony, Than Feed Upon Turkey At Another Man?s Table, Where One Is Fain To Sit Mincing And Chewing His Meat An Hour Together, Drink Little, Be Always Wiping His Fingers And His Chops, And Never Dare To Cough Nor Sneeze, Though He Has Never So Much A Mind To It, Nor Do A Many Things Which A Body May Do Freely By One?s Self.

When Life Itself Seems Lunatic, Who Knows Where Madness Lies? Perhaps To Be Too Practical May Be Madness. To Surrender Dreams, This May Be Madness ...maddest Of All Is To See Life As It Is And Not As It Should Be.

As Ill-luck Would Have It.

Little Said Is Soon Amended.