Every Shot That Kills Ricochets.

Imagination Is At The Root Of Much That Passes For Love.

The Music Throbbed In A Voice Of Singular And Delicate Power; The Air Was Resonant With Melody, Love And Pain. The Meanest Italian In The Gallery Far Up Beneath The Ceiling, The Most Exalted Of The Land In The Boxes And The Stalls, Leaned Indulgently Forward, To Be Swept By This Sweet Storm Of Song.

When A Child Is Born The Mother Also Is Born Again.

Memory Is Man's Greatest Friend And Worst Enemy.

There Is No Influence Like The Influence Of Habit.