When The House Of A Great One

Only Bad Generals Need Heroes.

One Must Live Well To Know What Living Is.

With Drooping Shoulders The Majority Sit Hunched, Their Foreheads Furrowed Like Stony Ground That Has Been Repeatedly Ploughed-up To No Purpose.

The Human Race Tends To Remember The Abuses To Which It Has Been Subjected Rather Than The Endearments. What's Left Of Kisses? Wounds, However, Leave Scars.

The More Innocent They Are, The More They Deserve To Be Shot.