The Entry Of A Child Into Any

So We Live; A Spirit That Broods And Hovers Over The Continual Death Of Time, The Lost Meaning, The Unrecaptured Moment, The Unremembered Face, Until The Final Chop That Ends All Our Moments And Plunges That Spirit Back Into The Void From Which It Came.

Between Saying And Doing, Many A Pair Of Shoes Is Worn Out.

A Middling Talent Makes For A More Serene Life.

Love Is The Last And Secret Name Of All The Virtues.

Being Good Is Just A Matter Of Temperament In The End.