I Am A Playwright. I

Come In, Dear Wind, And Be Our Guest You Too Have Neither Home Nor Rest.

But Something's Missing.

People Who Fight May Lose. People Who Do Not Fight Have Already Lost.

The Human Race Tends To Remember The Abuses To Which It Has Been Subjected Rather Than The Endearments. What's Left Of Kisses? Wounds, However, Leave Scars.

The Finest Plans Are Always Ruined By The Littleness Of Those Who Ought To Carry Them Out, For Emperor Himself Can Actually Be Nothing.