Symmetry Is For God, Not For Us.

The Garden Where You Sit Has Never A Need Of Flowers, For You Are The Blossoms And Only A Fool Or The Blind Would Fail To Know It

When You Fall In Love, It Is A Temporary Madness. It Erupts Like An Earthquake, And Then It Subsides. And When It Subsides, You Have To Make A Decision. You Have To Work Out Whether Your Roots Are Become So Entwined Together That It Is Inconceivable That You Should Ever Part.

The Trouble With Fulfilling Your Ambitions Is You Think You Will Be Transformed Into Some Sort Of Archangel And You're Not. You Still Have To Wash Your Socks.

No Man Is A Man Until He Has Been A Soldier.

Love Itself Is What Is Left Over When Being "in Love" Has Burned Away, And This Is Both An Art And A Fortunate Accident.