Food Is My Drug Of Choice.

One Can Be Tired Of Rome After Three Weeks And Feel One Has Exhausted It; After Three Months One Feels That One Has Not Even Scratched The Surface Of Rome; And After Six Months One Wishes Never To Leave It.

Facts Mean Nothing To Wounded Feelings.

In The Face Of Evil, Detachment Is A Dubious Virtue.

Persecution Always Acts As A Jell For Members Of Cults; It Proves To Them, In The Absence Of History, Liturgy, Tradition, And Doctrine, That They Are God's Chosen.

My Mother Was My First Jealous Lover.