We Don't Choose Our Talents; But We

Such Hours Are Beautiful To Live, But Very Hard To Describe.

Nothing Remained But Loneliness And Grief.

Some Stories Are So Familiar Its Like Going Home.

Conceit Spoils The Finest Genius?and The Great Charm Of All Power Is Modesty.

…for No Matter How Lost And Soiled And Worn-out Wandering Sons May Be, Mothers Can Forgive And Forget Every Thing As They Fold Them Into Their Fostering Arms. Happy The Son Whose Faith In His Mother Remains Unchanged, And Who, Through All His Wanderings, Has Kept Some Filial Token To Repay Her Brave And Tender Love.