Sacred Texts Always Offend Reason.

Like Love, Grief Fades In And Out.

The Vices Of Youth Now Exceed My Powers, But Not My Fancy.

I Seldom Remember My Father, But I Sneeze And Rub My Nose The Way He Did. I Also Love My Son With Grief And Anger, As He Did.

The Egg Is The Symbol Of Perfection. Do You Want An Egg?

In Ethics, Prudence Is Not An Important Virtue, But In The World It Is Almost Everything.