True Wars Are Never Won.

I Remember We All Cried Like The Missouri When My Uncle Sol's Coffin Lurched Because Somebody Pressed A Button (and Down Went My Uncle Sol And Started A Worm Farm)

Love Is The Voice Under All Silences, The Hope Which Has No Opposite In Fear; The Strength So Strong Mere Force Is Feebleness: The Truth More First Than Sun, More Last Than Star.

Love Being Such, Or Such, The Normal Corners Of Your Heart Will Never Guess How Much My Wonderful Jealousy Is Dark

The World Is Mud-luscious And Puddle-wonderful.

Guilt Is The Cause Of More Marauders Than History's Most Obscene Disauders