Progress Is The Stride Of God.

We Are All Under Sentence Of Death, But With A Sort Of Indefinite Reprieve.

Is It Not When The Fall Is The Lowest That Charity Ought To Be The Greatest?

He Never Went Out Without A Book Under His Arm, And He Often Came Back With Two.

I Wanted To See You Again, Touch You, Know Who You Were, See If I Would Find You Identical With The Ideal Image Of You Which Had Remained With Me And Perhaps Shatter My Dream With The Aid Of Reality. -claude Frollo

Rhyme, That Enslaved Queen, That Supreme Charm Of Our Poetry, That Creator Of Our Meter.