The Rich's Paradise Was Created By The

Love Resembles A Tree: It Bends Under Its Own Weight, Deeply Rooted In Our Being And Sometimes Turns Green In The Ruins Of A Heart.

To Meditate Is To Labour; To Think Is To Act.

...though We Chisel Away As Best We Can At The Mysterious Block From Which Our Life Is Made, The Black Vein Of Destiny Continually Reappears.

There Is No More Sovereign Eloquence Than The Truth In Indignation.

The Beautiful Has But One Type, The Ugly Has A Thousand.