Choose Well. Your Choice Is Brief, And

Where The Light Is Brightest, The Shadows Are Deepest.

Woe To Him Who Would Ascribe Something Like Reason To Chance, And Make A Religion Of Surrendering To It.

Know'st Thou The Land Where The Lemon-trees Bloom, Where The Gold Orange Glows In The Deep Thicket's Gloom, Where A Wind Ever Soft From The Blue Heaven Blows, And The Groves Are Of Laurel And Myrtle And Rose!

I Think That I Am Better Than The People Who Are Trying To Reform Me.

Some People Spend The Day In Complaining Of A Headache, And The Night In Drinking The Wine That Gives It.