Prudence Is A Rich, Ugly, Old Maid

Thou Fair-hair'd Angel Of The Evening, Now, Whilst The Sun Rests On The Mountains, Light Thy Bright Torch Of Love; Thy Radiant Crown Put On, And Smile Upon Our Evening Bed!

The Weak In Courage Is Strong In Cunning.

He Who Desires, But Acts Not, Breeds Pestilence.

The Pure Soul Shall Mount On Native Wings, . . . And Cut A Path Into The Heaven Of Glory.

Celebrate Your Existence!