I Do Loathe Explanations.

Our Life Is A Book To Which We Add Daily, Until Suddenly We Are Finished, And Then The Manuscript Is Burned.

Nothing Is Really Work Unless You Would Rather Be Doing Something Else.

That Is Ever The Way. Tis All Jealousy To The Bride And Good Wishes To The Corpse.

The Reason Birds Can Fly And We Can't Is Simply That They Have Perfect Faith, For To Have Faith Is To Have Wings.

Second Star To The Right And Straight On 'til Morning.