How Frightening, That One Person Could Mean

It's No Fun To Be A Bluestocking In A Family Of Jockstraps.

Truly God Was Good, To Make Man So Blind.

Perfection, In Anything, Is Unbearably Dull. Myself, I Prefer A Touch Of Imperfection.

There's A Story... A Legend, About A Bird That Sings Just Once In Its Life. From The Moment It Leaves Its Nest, It Searches For A Thorn Tree... And Never Rests Until It's Found One. And Then It Sings... More Sweetly Than Any Other Creature On The Face Of The Earth. And Singing, It Impales Itself On The Longest, Sharpest Thorn. But, As It Dies, It Rises Above Its Own Agony, To Outsing The Lark And The Nightingale. The Thorn Bird Pays Its Life For Just One Song, But The Whole World Stills To Listen, And God In His Heaven Smiles.

The Labour Party Of Today Has Fits Of Horrors Of The Very Thought Of Somebody Like Me Might Saying That They Bought In White Australia. But I Believe They Did.