People Quickly Grow Accustomed To Being The

Memories Are Hunting Horns Whose Sound Dies On The Wind.

Now And Then It's Good To Pause In Our Pursuit Of Happiness And Just Be Happy.

Without Artists, The Sublime Idea Men Have Of The Universe Would Collapse With Dizzying Speed.

My, How Beautiful Is War! Its Songs, Its Leisure!

We Cannot Carry Our Father's Corpse With Us Everywhere We Go.