Who But Lovers Dream Alike?

I Can't Make Sense Out Of That Girl," He Said To The Bard, "can You?" "never Mind," Fflewddur Said, "we Aren't Really Expected To.

In The Race Of Men Is Much Greed And Envy; But Of Truth, Little.

For The Deeds Of A Man, Not The Words Of A Prophecy, Are What Shape His Destiny.

If I Fret Over Tomorrow, I'll Have Little Joy Today.

The Muse In Charge Of Fantasy Wears Good, Sensible Shoes. No Foam-born Aphrodite, She Vaguely Resembles My Old Piano Teacher, Who Was Keen On Metronomes.