Everything Is More Beautiful Because We're Doomed.

Close To The Gates A Spacious Garden Lies, From The Storms Defended And Inclement Skies; Four Acres Was The Allotted Space Of Ground, Fenc'd With A Green Enclosure All Around. Tall Thriving Trees Confessed The Fruitful Mold: The Reddening Apple Ripens Here To Gold, Here The Blue Fig With Luscious Juice Overflows, With Deeper Red The Full Pomegranate Glows, The Branch Here Bends Beneath The Weighty Pear, And Verdant Olives Flourish Round The Year.

Let Me Not Then Die Ingloriously And Without A Struggle, But Let Me First Do Some Great Thing That Shall Be Told Among Men Hereafter.

A Woman Is A Lot Like A Refrigerator. Six Feet Tall, 300 Pounds...it Makes Ice.

There Is Not Any Advantage To Be Won From Grim Lamentation.

It Is Tedious To Tell Again Tales Already Plainly Told.