The Thing We Long For, That We

My Soul Is Not A Palace Of The Past.

In The Ocean Of Baseness, The Deeper We Get, The Easier The Sinking.

Life Is Constantly Weighing Us In Very Sensitive Scales, And Telling Every One Of Us Precisely What His Real Weight Is To The Last Grain Of Dust.

I Love Her With A Love As Still As A Broad River's Peaceful Might, Which By High Tower And Lowly Mill, Goes Wandering At Its Own Will, And Yet Does Ever Flow Aright.

A Ginooine Statesman Should Be On His Guard, If He Must Hev Beliefs, Not To B'lieve 'em Too Hard.