Memory Is Man's Greatest Friend And Worst

There Is No Refuge From Memory And Remorse In This World. The Spirits Of Our Foolish Deeds Haunt Us, With Or Without Repentance.

The Music Throbbed In A Voice Of Singular And Delicate Power; The Air Was Resonant With Melody, Love And Pain. The Meanest Italian In The Gallery Far Up Beneath The Ceiling, The Most Exalted Of The Land In The Boxes And The Stalls, Leaned Indulgently Forward, To Be Swept By This Sweet Storm Of Song.

Ah, Lady, When I Gave My Heart To Thee, It Passed Into Thy Lifelong Regency.

Love Knows Not Distance; It Hath No Continent; Its Eyes Are For The Stars.

But Paying Is Part Of The Game Of Life: It Is The Joy Of Buying That We Crave.