Somewhere Between Obsession And Compulsion Is Impulse.

Moral Maxims Are Surprisingly Useful On Occasions When We Can Invent Little Else To Justify Our Actions.

Habit Is Heaven's Own Redress: It Takes The Place Of Happiness.

I've Lived To Bury My Desires And See My Dreams Corrode With Rust Now All That's Left Are Fruitless Fires That Burn My Empty Heart To Dust. Struck By The Clouds Of Cruel Fate My Crown Of Summer Bloom Is Sere Alone And Sad, I Watch And Wait And Wonder If The End Is Near. As Conquered By The Last Cold Air When Winter Whistles In The Wind Alone Upon A Branch That's Bare A Trembling Leaf Is Left Behind.

Fearing No Insult, Asking For No Crown, Receive With Indifference Both Flattery And Slander, And Do Not Argue With A Fool.

Better The Illusions That Exalt Us Than Ten Thousand Truths.