I, Who Thought To Sink,

Children Use The Fist Until They Are Of Age To Use The Brain.

No Man Can Be Called Friendless Who Has God And The Companionship Of Good Books.

The Plague Of Gold Strikes Far And Near.

The Charm, One Might Say The Genius, Of Memory Is That It Is Choosy, Chancy And Temperamental; It Rejects The Edifying Cathedral And Indelibly Photographs The Small Boy Outside, Chewing A Hunk Of Melon In The Dust.

Suddenly, As Rare Things Will, It Vanished.