Love Is, Above All, The Gift Of

There Will Always Be A Lost Dog Somewhere That Will Keep Me From Being Happy.

What You Get Free Costs Too Much.

Oh, Love Is Real Enough; You Will Find It Someday, But It Has One Archenemy - And That Is Life.

It Is Restful, Tragedy, Because One Knows That There Is No More Lousy Hope Left. You Know You're Caught, Caught At Last Like A Rat With All The World On Its Back. And The Only Thing Left To Do Is Shout - Not Moan, Or Complain, But Yell Out At The Top Of Your Voice Whatever It Was You Had To Say. What You've Never Said Before. What Perhaps You Don't Even Know Till Now.

However Tight I Shut My Eyes, There Will Always Be A Stray Dog Somewhere In The World Who'll Stop Me Being Happy.