People Avenge Themselves For The Favors Done

You Can Lose Your Way Groping Among The Shadows Of The Past.

Our Journey Is Entirely Imaginary. That Is Its Strength.

An Unfamiliar City Is A Fine Thing. That's The Time And Place When You Can Suppose That All The People You Meet Are Nice. It's Dream Time.

The Poetry Of Heroism Appeals Irresistibly To Those Who Don't Go To A War, And Even More To Those Whom The War Is Making Enormously Wealthy. It's Always So.

There's A Point Of Poverty At Which The Spirit Isn't With The Body All The Time. It Finds The Body Really Too Unbearable. So It's Almost As If You Were Talking To The Soul Itself. And A Soul's Not Properly Responsible.