To Travel Is To Live.

Life Is Like A Beautiful Melody, Only The Lyrics Are Messed Up.

She Laughed And Danced With The Thought Of Death In Her Heart.

I Have Gone Through The Most Terrible Affair That Could Possibly Happen; Only Imagine, My Shadow Has Gone Mad; I Suppose Such A Poor, Shallow Brain, Could Not Bear Much; He Fancies That He Has Become A Real Man, And That I Am His Shadow.

‎"does All The Beauty Of The World Stop When You Die?" "no," Said The Old Oak; "it Will Last Much Longer - Longer Than I Can Even Think Of." "well, Then," Said The Little May-fly, "we Have The Same Time To Live; Only We Reckon Differently.

But Shouldn't All Of Us On Earth Give The Best We Have To Others And Offer Whatever Is In Our Power?