So Far It's 43 Books

Latin! The Language Of God! Or Perhaps He Speaks Hebrew? I Suppose That's More Likely And It Will Make Things Rather Awkward In Heaven, Won't It? Will We All Have To Learn Hebrew?

The Bards Sing Of Love, They Celebrate Slaughter, They Extol Kings And Flatter Queens, But Were I A Poet I Would Write In Praise Of Friendship.

We Don't Build,' I Said To My Son, 'we Just Destroy.

Looking Back, Of Course, It Was Irresponsible, Mad, Forlorn, Idiotic, But If You Don't Take Chances Then You'll Never Have A Winning Hand, And I've No Regrets.

I Do Understand That You Can Look Into Someone’s Eyes,” I Heard Myself Saying, “and Suddenly Know That Life Will Be Impossible Without Them. Know That Their Voice Can Make Your Heart Miss A Beat And That Their Company Is All Your Happiness Can Ever Desire And That Their Absence Will Leave Your Soul Alone, Bereft And Lost.