Smell Is A Fallen Angel.

When All You Can Feel Are The Shadows, Turn Your Face Towards The Sun.

I Do Not Mean To Object To A Thorough Knowledge Of The Famous Works We Read. I Object Only To The Interminable Comments And Bewildering Criticisms That Teach But One Thing: There Are As Many Opinions As There Are Men.

I Believe There Are Angels Among Us, Sent Down To Us From Somewhere Up Above. They Come To You And Me In Our Darkest Hours, To Show Us How To Live, To Teach Us How To Give, To Guide Us With A Light Of Love.

Trying To Write Is Very Much Like Trying To Put A Chinese Puzzle Together. We Have A Pattern In Mind Which We Wish To Work Out In Words; But The Words Will Not Fit The Spaces, Or, If They Do, They Will Not Match The Design.

True Friends Never Apart Maybe In Distance But Never In Heart