It's No Fun To Be

Yet There's Something Ominous About Turning Sixty-five. Suddenly Old Age Is Not A Phenomenon Which Will Occur; It Has Occurred.

There Are No Ambitions Noble Enough To Justify Breaking Someone's Heart.

Truly God Was Good, To Make Man So Blind.

Perfection, In Anything, Is Unbearably Dull. Myself, I Prefer A Touch Of Imperfection.

There's A Story... A Legend, About A Bird That Sings Just Once In Its Life. From The Moment It Leaves Its Nest, It Searches For A Thorn Tree... And Never Rests Until It's Found One. And Then It Sings... More Sweetly Than Any Other Creature On The Face Of The Earth. And Singing, It Impales Itself On The Longest, Sharpest Thorn. But, As It Dies, It Rises Above Its Own Agony, To Outsing The Lark And The Nightingale. The Thorn Bird Pays Its Life For Just One Song, But The Whole World Stills To Listen, And God In His Heaven Smiles.