There Are Two Kinds Of Hangover: In

Duty Is But A Pot. It Holds Whatever Is Put In It, From The Greatest Evil To The Greatest Good.

We Talked For Hours. He Talked And I Listened. It Was Like Wind And Sunlight. It Blew All The Cobwebs Away.

Hazard Has Conditioned Us To Live In Hazard. All Our Pleasures Are Dependent On It. Even Though I Arrange For A Pleasure, And Look Forward To It, My Eventual Enjoyment Of It Is Still A Matter Of Hazard. Wherever Time Passes, There Is Hazard.

How Can One Build A Better Self Unless On The Ruins Of The Old?

I Was Too Green To Know That All Cynicism Masks A Failure To Cope - An Impotence, In Short; And That To Despise All Effort Is The Greatest Effort Of All.