Rien N'est Vrai Que Ce

It Is Restful, Tragedy, Because One Knows That There Is No More Lousy Hope Left. You Know You're Caught, Caught At Last Like A Rat With All The World On Its Back. And The Only Thing Left To Do Is Shout - Not Moan, Or Complain, But Yell Out At The Top Of Your Voice Whatever It Was You Had To Say. What You've Never Said Before. What Perhaps You Don't Even Know Till Now.

Life Consists Of Nothing More Than The Happiness We Can Get Out Of It.

All Children Are Sweet At Five. But At Twelve They Begin To Get Silly.

There Will Always Be A Lost Dog Somewhere That Will Keep Me From Being Happy.

Life Is A Wonderful Thing To Talk About, Or To Read About In History Books - But It Is Terrible When One Has To Live It.