Life Has No Friend.

There Isn't A Train I Wouldn't Take, No Matter Where It's Going.

Upon This Gifted Age, In Its Dark Hour Falls From The Sky A Meteoric Shower Of Facts; They Lie Unquestioned, Uncombined. Wisdom Enough To Leech Us Of Our Ill Is Daily Spun, But There Exists No Loom To Weave It Into Fabric.

I Will Be The Gladdest Thing Under The Sun! I Will Touch A Hundred Flowers And Not Pick One.

But If I Can't Be Sorry, Why, I Might As Well Be Glad!

After The Feet Of Beauty Fly My Own.