Well, Yes: People Write Poems When They

Time Is So Fleeting That If We Do Not Remember God In Our Youth, Age May Find Us Incapable Of Thinking Of Him.

I Have Gone Through The Most Terrible Affair That Could Possibly Happen; Only Imagine, My Shadow Has Gone Mad; I Suppose Such A Poor, Shallow Brain, Could Not Bear Much; He Fancies That He Has Become A Real Man, And That I Am His Shadow.

No, The Light Is Too Intense; We Do Not Yet Have Eyes That Can See All The Glory God Has Created. But Maybe Someday We Will Have Such Eyes. That Will Be The Most Wonderful Fairy Tale Of All, For We Ourselves Will Be Part Of It.

Travelling Expands The Mind Rarely.

Life Is Like A Beautiful Melody, Only The Lyrics Are Messed Up.