Close Thy Byron ; Open Thy Goethe

High Air-castles Are Cunningly Built Of Words, The Words Well Bedded Also In Good Logic-mortar; Wherein, However, No Knowledge Will Come To Lodge.

Naps Are A Way Of Traveling Painlessly Through Time Into The Future.

Language Is Called The Garment Of Thought: However, It Should Rather Be, Language Is The Flesh-garment, The Body, Of Thought.

Song Is The Heroics Of Speech.

Laughter Is The Cipher Key Wherewith We Decipher The Whole Man