Hope Is Like A Hairball

Does The Road Wind Up-hill All The Way? Yes, To The Very End.

Oh Roses For The Flush Of Youth, And Laurel For The Perfect Prime; But Pluck An Ivy Branch For Me Grown Old Before My Time.

Obedience Is The Fruit Of Faith; Patience Is The Early Blossom On The Tree Of Faith.

When I Am Dead, My Dearest, Sing No Sad Songs For Me; Plant Thou No Roses At My Head, Nor Shady Cypress Tree: Be The Green Grass Above Me With Showers And Dewdrops Wet: And If Thou Wilt, Remember, And If Thou Wilt, Forget. I Shall Not See The Shadows, I Shall Not Feel The Rain; I Shall Not Hear The Nightingale Sing On As If In Pain: And Dreaming Through The Twilight That Doth Not Rise Nor Set, Haply I May Remember, And Haply I May Forget.

Silence Is More Musical Than Any Song.