Complacency Makes One As Guilty

A Prison! Heav'ns, I Loath The Hated Name, Famine's Metropolis, The Sink Of Shame, A Nauseous Sepulchre, Whose Craving Womb Hourly Inters Poor Mortals In Its Tomb; By Ev'ry Plague And Ev'ry Ill Possess'd, Ev'n Purgatory Itself To Thee 's A Jest.

If We Are Going To Allow Somebody To Request A Recount, The Intent Obviously Is That You Expect A Recount To Be Included.

A Lost Trail Always Extends Beyond The Evidence, And Even The Trails We Find Are Only Fragments Of The Trails That Lie Beyond Our Comprehension.

The Place Where You Lose The Trail Is Not Necessarily The Place Where It Ends.

This Earth Is A Garden, This Life A Banquet, And It's Time We Realized That It Was Given To All Life, Animal And Man, To Enjoy.