We Remember The Details Of Our Story,

Had Shakespeare Listened To The News Of Duncans Death In A Tavern Or Heard The Knocking On His Own Bedroom Door After He Had Finished The Writing Of Macbeth?

I Say That Home Is Where There Is A Chair And A Glass.

Innocence Is Like A Dumb Leper Who Has Lost His Bell, Wandering The World, Meaning No Harm.

There's A Virtue In Slowness, Which We Have Lost

Insecurity Twists Meanings And Poisons Trust. In A Closely Beleaguered City Every Sentry Is A Potential Traitor.