Tomorrow Is No Man's Gift.

War Is Cruelty, And None Can Make It Gentle.

There's No Credit In Not Doing What You Don't Want To Do. There's No Virtue In Not Falling, When You're Not Tempted.

The Music Throbbed In A Voice Of Singular And Delicate Power; The Air Was Resonant With Melody, Love And Pain. The Meanest Italian In The Gallery Far Up Beneath The Ceiling, The Most Exalted Of The Land In The Boxes And The Stalls, Leaned Indulgently Forward, To Be Swept By This Sweet Storm Of Song.

Tomorrow Is No Man's Gift.

But Paying Is Part Of The Game Of Life: It Is The Joy Of Buying That We Crave.