I Prefer My History Dead. Dead History

My Old Grandmother Always Used To Say, Summer Friends Will Melt Away Like Summer Snows, But Winter Friends Are Friends Forever.

Tomorrow's Trials Concerned Her More Than Yesterday's Triumphs.

She Would Die As She Had Lived, With An Axe In Her Hand And A Laugh Upon Her Lips.

How Do You Fight Someone If You Can't Hit Them?

If? The Word Is When.