I Went To Collect The Few Personal

The Lovesick, The Betrayed, And The Jealous All Smell Alike.

The True Traveler Is He Who Goes On Foot, And Even Then, He Sits Down A Lot Of The Time.

There Are No Ordinary Cats.

Hope Costs Nothing.

There Are Days When Solitude, For Someone My Age, Is A Heady Wine That Intoxicates You With Freedom, Others When It Is A Bitter Tonic, And Still Others When It Is A Poison That Makes You Beat Your Head Against The Wall.