This Morning I Shot Six Holes In

Some Make The World Go Round; Others Watch It Turn.

We Need More Fruitcakes In This World, And Less Bakers!

It's A Fine Line Between Saturday Night And Sunday Morning.

Grief Is Like The Wake Behind A Boat. It Starts Out As A Huge Wave That Follows Close Behind You And Is Big Enough To Swamp And Drown You If You Suddenly Stop Moving Forward. But If You Do Keep Moving, The Big Wake Will Eventually Dissipate. And After A Long Time, The Waters Of Your Life Get Calm Again, And That Is When The Memories Of Those Who Have Left Begin To Shine As Bright And As Enduring As The Stars Above.

Come Back, Come Back, Back To Jamaica Don't You Know We Made A Big Mistaika We Would Be So Sad If You Told Us Goodbye And We Promise Not To Shoot You Out Of The Sky!