When You Choose An Action, You Choose

My Home Is Not A Place, It Is People.

His Outflung Hands Traced Over The Threads Of His Rug, Passed Loop By Loop Through Some Patient Woman's Hands. Or Maybe She Hadn't Been Patient. Maybe She'd Been Tired, Or Irritated, Or Distracted, Or Hungry, Or Angry. Maybe She Had Been Dying. But Her Hands Had Kept Moving, All The Same.

Poets Speak Of Hope In Ladies Smiles, But Give Me A Smirk Any Day, I Say.

You Couldn't Be That Good And Not Know It, Somewhere In Your Secret Heart, However Much You'd Been Abused Into Affecting Public Humility.

Power Is Better Than Revenge. Power Is A Live Thing, By Which You Reach Out To Grasp The Future. Revenge Is A Dead Thing, Reaching Out From The Past To Grasp You.