Faith Is A Fine Invention

I Do Not Like The Man Who Squanders Life For Fame; Give Me The Man Who Living Makes A Name.

The Possible's Slow Fuse Is Lit By The Imagination.

The Sailor Cannot See The North / But Knows The Needle Can.

Just A Turn Of The Doorknob, And There Lies Freedom.

Each That We Lose Takes A Part Of Us; A Crescent Still Abides, Which Like The Moon, Some Turbid Night, Is Summoned By The Tides.