Where Two Discourse, If The Anger Of

Learn To Be Pleased With Everything...because It Could Always Be Worse, But Isn't!

Lamentation Is The Only Musician That Always, Like A Screech-owl, Alights And Sits On The Roof Of Any Angry Man.

I, For My Part, Wonder Of What Sort Of Feeling, Mind Or Reason That Man Was Possessed Who Was First To Pollute His Mouth With Gore, And To Allow His Lips To Touch The Flesh Of A Murdered Being: Who Spread His Table With The Mangled Forms Of Dead Bodies, And Claimed As Daily Food And Dainty Dishes What But Now Were Beings Endowed With Movement, Perception And With Voice. …but For The Sake Of Some Little Mouthful Of Flesh, We Deprive A Soul Of The Sun And Light, And Of That Portion Of Life And Time It Had Been Born In To The World To Enjoy.

Grief Is Like A Physical Pain Which Must Be Allowed To Subside Somewhat On Its Own Before Medical Treatment Is Applied.

If I Were Not Alexander, I Would Be Diogenes.