A Weeping Woman Is A Bucket With

The Wheel Of Time Turns, And Ages Come And Pass, Leaving Memories That Become Legend. Legend Fades To Myth, And Even Myth Is Long Forgotten When The Age That Gave It Birth Comes Again. In One Age, Called The Third Age By Some, An Age Yet To Come, An Age Long Past, A Wind Rose In The Mountains Of Mist. The Wind Was Not The Beginning. There Are Neither Beginnings Nor Endings To The Turning Of The Wheel Of Time. But It Was A Beginning.

Women Often Seemed To Leave Things Unsaid, And In His Limited Experience It Was What They Did Not Say That Proved The Most Trouble.

Sometimes, A Wife Must Do What Her Husband Cannot.

The Creator Made Women To Please The Eye, And To Boggle The Mind.

Better To Face The Bear Than Run From It.