O God, Let Me Write

No Matter How Vital Experience Might Be While You Lived It, No Sooner Was It Ended And Dead Than It Became As Lifeless As The Piles Of Dry Dust In A School History Book.

And Where Was Happiness If It Sprung Not From The Soil? Where Contentment If It Dwelt Not Near To Nature?

Tilling The Fertile Soil Of Man's Vanity.

There Wouldn't Be Half As Much Fun In The World If It Weren't For Children And Men, And There Ain't A Mite Of Difference Between Them Under The Skins.

Nations Decay From Within More Often Than They Surrender To Outward Assault.