What A Force Is Laughter.

Violence Does Not And Cannot Flourish By Itself; It Is Inevitably Intertwined With Lying.

In Our Village, Folks Say God Crumbles Up The Old Moon Into Stars.

Literature Becomes The Living Memory Of A Nation.

There Are A Lot Of Clear Thinkers Everywhere.

Art Thaws Even The Frozen, Darkened Soul, Opening It To Lofty Spiritual Experience.