And Endless Are The Modes

This Is The Way I've Always Thought It Should Be. We've Always Blamed Ourselves, But I Guess We Know What Cylinder Wasn't Firing!

It Is The Bold Man Who Every Time Does Best, At Home Or Abroad.

Generations Of Men Are Like The Leaves. In Winter, Winds Blow Them Down To Earth, But Then, When Spring Season Comes Again, The Budding Wood Grows More. And So With Men: One Generation Grows, Another Dies Away.

Even A Fool Learns Something Once It Hits Him.

Like Leaves On Trees The Race Of Man Is Found,- Now Green In Youth, Now Withering On The Ground; Another Race The Following Spring Supplies: They Fall Successive, And Successive Rise.