Of All Crimes The Worst Is To

Live Life Like Its The Last Breath You Take For That Breath Is The Whole Essence Of Living, The Little Things In Life Are What Connects Us To All The Big Things We Live For

I Have Never Started A Poem Yet Whose End I Knew. Writing A Poem Is Discovering.

It Was Far In The Sameness Of The Wood; I Was Running With Joy On The Demon's Trail, Though I Knew What I Hunted Was No True God.

More Men Die Of Worry Than Of Work, Because More Men Worry Than Work.

One Of The Lies Would Make It Out That Nothing Ever Presents Itself Before Us Twice. Where Would We Be At Last If That Were So? Our Very Life Depends On Everything's Recurring Till We Answer From Within.