The Brain Is A Tool That Gets

Gossiping Is The Plague Of Little Towns.

It Is Extraordinary How Music Sends One Back Into Memories Of The Past.

I Was Born To Love - But None Of You Wanted To Believe It, And That Misunderstanding Was Crucial In Forming My Character. It's True That Nature Was Strangely Inconsistent In Giving Me A Warm Heart, But Also A Face That Was Like A Stone Mask And A Tongue That Was Heavy And Slow. She Refused Me What She Bestowed Freely On Even The Most Loutish Of My Fellow Men. . . . People Judged My Inner Character By My Outer Covering, And Like A Sterile Fruit, I Withered Under The Rough Husk I Couldn't Slough Off.

A Man Is Not A Wall, Whose Stones Are Crushed Upon The Road; Or A Pipe, Whose Fragments Are Thrown Away At A Street Corner. The Fragments Of An Intellect Are Always Good.

Fretting At Trouble Only Doubles It.