Enemies,' The Wizard Said, 'are The Price

I'm Afraid That We All Make Mistakes. One Of The Things That Defines Our Character Is How We Handle Mistakes. If We Lie About Having Made A Mistake, Then It Can't Be Corrected And It Festers. On The Other Hand, If We Give Up Just Because We Made A Mistake, Even A Big Mistake, None Of Us Would Get Far In Life.

Over The Millennia The Seed Of Stories Planted In The Fertile Soil Of Bits And Scraps Of Facts Was Watered By Wishes And Began To Take Root And Grow. Eventually, A Bountiful Fruit Of Rumors Burst Forth, To Be Spread On The Wind Of Whispers That Said We Hid A Fabled Hoard Of Gold. Nothing Could Convince The Believers That It Was Not True. The Truth Does Not Glitter For These People Like Gold Does.

There Were Those Who Loved Liberty, Who Cried Out To Live Their Own Lives, To Strive, To Rise Above, To Achieve, And Those Bent On The Mindless Equality Of Stagnation Brought About Through The Enforcement Of An Artificial, Arbitrary, Gray Uniformity--those Who Wanted To Transcend Through Their Own Effort, And Those Who Wanted Others To Think For Them And Were Willing To Pay The Ultimate Price.

Right And Wrong Are Not The Product Of Census.

Why Should I Live My Whole Life Where I Don't Want To Be. [it's A Good Point - Pretty Hard To Argue With That Sort Of Logic Really Isn't It!