Christmas Isn't A Season. It's

Now Gae Your Wa'stho'anes As Gude As Ever Happit Flesh And Blude, Yet Part We Maunthe Case Sae Hard Is, Amang The Writers And The Bardies That Lang They'll Brook The Auld I Trow, Or Neibours Cry,'weel Brook The New'.

To Be Alive Is A Fine Thing. It Is The Finest Thing In The World, Though Hazardous. It Is A Unique Thing. It Happens Only Once In A Lifetime. To Be Alive, To Know Consciously That You Are Alive, And To Relish That Knowledge -- This Is A Kind Of Magic. Or It May Be A Kind Of Madness, Exhilarating But Harmless.

I Like Any Place That Isn't Here.

It's Terrible To Realize That You Don't Learn How To Live Until You're Ready To Die; And, Then It's Too Late.

About Mistakes It's Funny. You Got To Make Your Own; And Not Only That, If You Try To Keep People From Making Theirs They Get Mad.