I Bequeath All My Property To My

God Will Forgive Me. It's His Job.

The Arrow Belongs Not To The Archer When It Has Once Left The Bow; The Word No Longer Belongs To The Speaker When It Has Once Passed His Lips, Especially When It Has Been Multiplied By The Press.

With His Nightcaps And The Tatters Of His Dressing-gown He Patches Up The Gaps In The Structure Of The Universe.

The Butterfly Long Loved The Beautiful Rose, And Flirted Around All Day; While Round Him In Turn With Her Golden Caress, Soft Fluttered The Sun's Warm Ray.... I Know Not With Whom The Rose Was In Love, But I Know That I Loved Them All. The Butterfly, Rose, And The Sun's Bright Ray, The Star And The Bird's Sweet Call.

If The Romans Had Been Obliged To Learn Latin, They Would Never Have Found Time To Conquer The World.