Bastard Freedom Waves Her Fustian Flag In

It Is Only To The Happy That Tears Are A Luxury.

You May Break, You May Shatter The Vase, If You Will, But The Scent Of The Roses Will Hang Round It Still.

Fond Memory Brings The Light Of Other Days Around Me.

How Many Times Do We Lose An Occasion For Soul Work By Leaping Ahead To Final Solutions Without Pausing To Savor The Undertones? We Are A Radically Bottom-line Society, Eager To Act And To End Tension, And Thus We Lose Opportunities To Know Ourselves For Our Motives And Our Secrets.

A Pretty Wife Is Something For The Fastidious Vanity Of A Roue To Retire Upon.