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We Launch Our Souls From The Cannons Of Art And Discipline, And On Any One Night, Hovering Over The Chimney Tops Of Europe, Halfway To The Stars, There Are Armies Of Brightly Spinning Spirits That Have Risen Like Fireworks, Tethered To The Souls Of Those Men And Women Who, By Reflection, Mortification, And Devotion, Effortlessly Outdazzle Kings.

I Have A Particular Dislike Of Human Pride. And If You Think That You Can Engineer Outcomes, That's A Manifestation Of Pride. Among Other Things, It's Impractical. It Just Doesn't Work. The World Doesn't Work That Way.

Give The Money Directly To People Who Work Hard. Instead Of Taking The Money From The Business And Then Filtering It Through The Horror Of Government Programs, Which Is Essentially Giving It To Social Workers Who Live In Bethesda So They Can Drive Their Minivans And Vote Democratic. Give Them The Money, So That They Go And Talk To The Worker Who Is Washing Dishes, And They Say, "well, We Want To Help You, You See." And It Would Be Better To Help Them By Taking The Money From That Minivan-driving Social Worker And Giving It Directly To The Guy Who Is Really Working Hard By Washing Dishes.

Justice Can Sleep For Years And Awaken When It Is Least Expected. A Miracle Is Nothing More Than Dormant Justice From Another Time Arriving To Compensate Those It Has Cruelly Abandoned. Whoever Knows This Is Willing To Suffer, For He Knows That Nothing Is In Vain.

The Voodoo Priest And All His Powders Were As Nothing Compared To Espresso, Cappuccino, And Mocha, Which Are Stronger Than All The Religions Of The World Combined, And Perhaps Stronger Than The Human Soul Itself.