The Truth Is, We Like To Talk

Curiosity Is Its Own Suicide.

What Is Life? A Gulf Of Troubled Waters, Where The Soul, Like A Vexed Bark, Is Tossed Upon The Waves Of Pain And Pleasure By The Wavering Breath Of Passions.

Oh, No! My Heart Can Never Be Again In Lightest Hopes The Same; The Love That Lingers There For Thee Hath More Of Ashes Than Of Flame.

... True Love Is Like Religion, It Hath Its Silence And Its Sanctity.

There Is A Large Stock On Hand; But Somehow Or Other, Nobody's Experience Ever Suits Us But Our Own.