It's The Fools That Make All The

Dear Old World', She Murmured, 'you Are Very Lovely, And I Am Glad To Be Alive In You.

I Hate To Lend A Book I Love...it Never Seems Quite The Same When It Comes Back To Me.

Without Shedding Of Blood There Is No Anything. Everything, It Seems To Me, Has To Be Purchased By Selfsacrifice. Our Race Has Marked Every Step Of Its Painful Ascent With Blood. And Now Torrents Of It Must Flow Again.

It's So Hard To Get Up Again—although Of Course The Harder It Is The More Satisfaction You Have When You Do Get Up, Haven't You?

But Feeling Is So Different From Knowing. My Common Sense Tells Me All You Can Say, But There Are Times When Common Sense Has No Power Over Me. Common Nonsense Takes Possession Of My Soul.