What Do You Think Of That? It’s

Youth Is Like Having A Big Plate Of Candy. Sentimentalists Think They Want To Be In The Pure, Simple State They Were In Before They Ate The Candy. They Don't. They Just Want The Fun Of Eating It All Over Again.

Blessed Are The Dead That The Rain Falls On.

Then Came The War, Old Sport. It Was A Great Relief, And I Tried Very Hard To Die, But I Seemed To Bear An Enchanted Life.

Writing Is Eternal, For Therein The Dead Heart Liveth, The Clay-cold Tongue Is Eloquent, And The Quick Eye Of The Reader Is Cleared By The Reed Of The Scribe. As A Fossil In The Rock, Or A Coin In The Mortar Of A Ruin, So The Symbolled Thoughts Tell Of A Departed Soul: The Plastic Hand Hath Its Witness In A Statue, And Exactitude Of Vision In A Picture, And So, The Mind, That Was Among Us, In Its Writings Is Embalmed.

His Was A Great Sin Who First Invented Consciousness. Let Us Lose It For A Few Hours.