Walk, First, Through The Fire,

In Foreign Countries They Fear Baldness. They Are So Rich In Foreign Countries, They Can Afford To Fear All Kinds Of Silly Things.

But Nobody Ever Forgot Anything, Not Really, Though Sometimes They Pretended, When It Suited Them. Memories Were Permanent. Sorrowful Ones Remained Sad Even With The Passing Of Time, Yet Happy Ones Could Never Be Recreated - Not With The Same Joy. Remembering Bred Its Own Peculiar Sorrow. It Seemed So Unfair: That Time Should Render Both Sadness And Happiness Into A Source Of Pain.

There Didn't Seem To Her Any Harm In It, And The Make-believe Was So Comforting.

...you Have To Use Your Failures As Stepping Stones To Success. You Have To Maintain A Fine Balance Between Hope And Despair. In The End It’s All A Question Of Balance.

Black Money Is So Much A Part Of Our White Economy, A Tumour In The Centre Of The Brain - Try To Remove It And You Kill The Patient.