These Days, People Spent Too Much Time

Atlas Isn't Carrying The World On His Shoulders, No Giant Muscular Hulk With A Sense Of Responsibility; The World Is Balanced On A Pyramid Of Clowns, And They Are Always Tooting Horns And Wobbling And Goosing Each Other.

Without Trust, There Can Be No Tranquil Resting Of The Mind.

If Someone Wrote It And It Had A Peculiar Twist, I've Read It.

I Am My Own Worst Enemy. This, More Than Any Other Trait, Proves My Fundamental Humanity.

Sorrow Is Not A Raven Perched Persistently Above A Chamber Door. Sorrow Is A Thing With Teeth, And While In Time It Retreats, It Comes Back At The Whisper Of It's Name.