The Internet Wasn't Created For

Once You Go Vatican, You Never Go Back Again.

These Nights Are Endless, And A Man Can Sleep Through Them, Or He Can Enjoy Listening To Stories, And You Have No Need To Go To Bed Before It Is Time. Too Much Sleep Is Only A Bore. And Of The Others, Any One Whose Heart And Spirit Urge Him Can Go Outside And Sleep, And Then, When The Dawn Shows, Breakfast First, Then Go Out To Tend The Swine Of Our Master. But We Two, Sitting Here In The Shelter, Eating And Drinking, Shall Entertain Each Other Remembering And Retelling Our Sad Sorrows. For Afterwards A Man Who Has Suffered Much And Wandered Much Has Pleasure Out Of His Sorrows.

There Is A Strength In The Even Of Very Sorry Men

It's About Time Trees Were Good For Something, Instead Of Just Standing There Like Jerks!

Ah, Beer, My One Weakness. My Achille's Heel, If You Will.