I Declare After All There Is No

A Novel Must Show How The World Truly Is. Somehow, Reveals The True Source Of Our Actions.

A Large Income Is The Best Recipe For Happiness I Ever Heard Of.

Pity Is For This Life, Pity Is The Worm Inside The Meat, Pity Is The Meat, Pity Is The Shaking Pencil, Pity Is The Shaking Voice-- Not Enough Money, Not Enough Love--pity For All Of Us--it Is Our Grace, Walking Down The Ramp Or On The Moving Sidewalk, Sitting In A Chair, Reading The Paper, Pity, Turning A Leaf To The Light, Arranging A Thorn.

Where The Wound Had Been Given, There Must The Cure Be Found, If Any Where.

The Little Bit (two Inches Wide) Of Ivory On Which I Work With So Fine A Brush As Produces Little Effect After Much Labour.