We Have Forty Million Reasons For Failure,

There Are Gems Of Wondrous Brightness Ofttimes Lying At Our Feet, And We Pass Them, Walking Thoughtless, Down The Busy, Crowded Street. If We Knew, Our Pace Would Slacken, We Would Step More Oft With Care, Lest Our Careless Feet Be Treading To The Earth Some Jewel Rare.

We're All Islands Shouting Lies To Each Other Across Seas Of Misunderstanding.

A Woman's Guess Is Much More Accurate Than A Man's Certainty.

The Heart Of A Man To The Heart Of A Maid- Light Of My Tents, Be Fleet- Morning Awaits At The End Of The World, And The World Is All At Our Feet.

We Have Learned To Whittle The Eden Tree To The Shape Of A Surplice Peg, We Have Learned To Bottle Our Parents Twain In The Yelk Of An Addled Egg. We Know That The Tail Must Wag The Dog, For The Horse Is Drawn By The Cart, But The Devil Whoops, As He Whooped Of Old; It's Clever, But Is It Art?