In Grief, Words Are A

In Grief, Words Are A Poor Consolation - Silence And Agonizing Tears Are All That Is Left The Sufferer.

Others Live On In A Careless And Lukewarm State - Not Appearing To Fill Longfellow's Measure: 'into Each Life, Some Rain Must Fall.'

Clouds And Darkness Surround Us, Yet Heaven Is Just, And The Day Of Triumph Will Surely Come, When Justice And Truth Will Be Vindicated. Our Wrongs Will Be Made Right, And We Will Once More Taste The Blessings Of Freedom

If You Keep Making Jokes Like That, Somebody Is Going To Shoot You, Father.

No One Is Loved As Much As You By The People. Don't Waste That Power.