There Is Madness In Youth, But Sometimes

In Hatred As In Love, We Grow Like The Thing We Brood Upon. What We Loathe, We Graft Into Our Very Soul.

An Audience Of Twenty Thousand, Sitting On Its Hands, Could Not Have Produced Such An Echoing Silence.

Clouds Of Black Birds Rose Up Wailing And Screaming, Like The Thoughts Of My Heart.

Money Buys Many Things... The Best Of Which Is Freedom.

The Perpetual Stream Of Human Nature Is Formed Into Ever-changing Shallows, Eddies, Falls And Pools By The Land Over Which It Passes. Perhaps The Only Real Value Of History Lies In Considering This Endlessly Varied Play Between The Essence And The Accidents.