Poverty And Pride Are Devoted Blood Brothers

Friendship Is An Algebra Test That Nobody Passes.

I Think That It Is A Part Of Growing Up, Learning To Control Our Suffering. I Think That When We Grow Up, And Learn That Happiness Is Rare, And Passes Quickly, We Become Disillusioned And Hurt. And How Much We Suffer Is A Mark Of How Much We Have Been Hurt By This Realisation. Suffering, You See, Is A Kind Of Anger. We Rage Against The Unfairness, The Injustice Of Our Sad And Sorry Lot.

A City May Be Dirty On The Outside But Is Clean On The Inside. Many Cities In The World Are Clean On The Outside But Dirty On The Inside.

The Tears, When They Come To Some Men, Are Worse Than Beatings. They're Wounded Worse By Sobbing, Men Like That, Than They Are By Boots And Batons. Tears Begin In The Heart, But Some Of Us Deny The Heart So Often, And For So Long, That When It Speaks We Hear Not One But A Hundred Sorrows In The Heartbreak. We Know That Crying Is A Good And Natural Thing. We Know That Crying Isn't A Weakness, But A Kind Of Strength. Still, The Weeping Rips Us Root By Tangled Root From The Earth, And We Crash Like Fallen Trees When We Cry.

A Wise Man Once Told Me- He’s A Muslim By The Way- That He Has More In Common With A Jew Than He Does A Fanatic Of His Own Religion. He Has More In Common With A Rational, Reasonable-minded Christian Or A Buddhist Or Hindu Than He Does With A Fanatic Of His Own Religion. In Fact, He Has More In Common With A Ration, Reasonable-minded Atheist Than He Does With A Fanatic Of His Own Religion