The Truly Great Rest In The Knowledge

The Sea Complains Upon A Thousand Shores.

The Discovery Of A Grey Hair When You Are Brushing Out Your Whiskers Of A Morning - First Fallen Flake Of The Coming Snows Of Age - Is A Disagreeable Thing.

A Bottomless Pit Of Violence, A Tower Of Babel Where All Are Speakers And No Hearers.

If You Do Your Fair Day's Work, You Are Certain To Get Your Fair Day's Wage - In Praise Or Pudding, Whichever Happens To Suit Your Taste.

Eternity Doth Wear Upon Her Face The Veil Of Time. They Only See The Veil, And Thus They Know Not What They Stand So Near!