Life Isn't All Beer And Skittles; Few

Blessed Be Death, That Cuts In Marble What Would Have Sunk To Dust!

I Make Bean Stalks, I'm A Builder, Like Yourself.

Upon This Gifted Age, In Its Dark Hour Falls From The Sky A Meteoric Shower Of Facts; They Lie Unquestioned, Uncombined. Wisdom Enough To Leech Us Of Our Ill Is Daily Spun, But There Exists No Loom To Weave It Into Fabric.

After All My Erstwhile Dear, My No Longer Cherished; Need We Say It Was Not Love, Just Because It Perished?

Into The Darkness They Go, The Wise And The Lovely.