Press On! A Better Fate Awaits Thee.

I Met In The Street A Very Poor Young Man Who Was In Love. His Hat Was Old, His Coat Worn, His Cloak Was Out At The Elbows, The Water Passed Through His Shoes, - And The Stars Through His Soul.

We Are Not Loved By Our Friends For What We Are; Rather, We Are Loved In Spite Of What We Are.

Desiring Always To Be In Mourning, He Clothed Himself With Night.

A Criminal Remains A Criminal Whether He Uses A Convict's Suit Or A Monarch's Crown.

I Will Be Chateaubriand Or Nothing.