When Faith Burns Itself Out, 'tis God

True Happiness Comes From The Joy Of Deeds Well Done, The Zest Of Creating Things New.

Nobody Grasped You By The Shoulder While There Was Still Time. Now The Clay Of Which You Were Shaped Has Dried And Hardened, And Naught In You Will Ever Awaken The Sleeping Musician, The Poet, The Asronomer That Possibly Inhabited You In The Beginning.

But If You Come At Just Any Time, I Shall Never Know At What Hour My Heart Is To Be Ready To Greet You.

I Am Who I Am And I Have The Need To Be.

War Is Not An Adventure. It Is A Disease. It Is Like Typhus.