As Long As There Is

Two Fixed Ideas Can No More Exist Together In The Moral World Than Two Bodies Can Occupy One And The Same Place In The Physical World.

'tis Time, My Friend, 'tis Time! For Rest The Heart Is Aching; Days Follow Days In Flight, And Every Day Is Taking, Fragments Of Being, While Together You And I, Make Plans To Live. Look, All Is Dust, And We Shall Die.

Try To Be Forgotten. Go Live In The Country. Stay In Mourning For Two Years, Then Remarry, But Choose Somebody Decent.

It's A Lucky Man, A Very Lucky Man, Who Is Committed To What He Believes, Who Has Stifled Intellectual Detachment And Can Relax In The Luxury Of His Emotions - Like A Tipsy Traveller Resting For The Night At Wayside Inn.

A Deception That Elevates Us Is Dearer Than A Host Of Low Truths.