Let All Your Thinks Be Thanks.

Music Can Be Made Anywhere, Is Invisible And Does Not Smell.

In Times Of Joy, All Of Us Wished We Possessed A Tail We Could Wag.

The Child Unlucky In His Little State, Some Hearth Where Freedom Is Excluded, A Hive Whose Honey Is Fear And Worry, Feels Calmer Now And Somehow Assured Of Escape

Goodness Is Easier To Recognize Than To Define.

Almost All Of Our Relationships Begin And Most Of Them Continue As Forms Of Mutual Exploitation, A Mental Or Physical Barter, To Be Terminated When One Or Both Parties Run Out Of Goods.