We Are All Like The

And How Shall You Punish Those Whose Remorse Is Already Greater Than Their Misdeeds?

In Truth You Owe Naught To Any Man. You Owe To All Men.

You Can Muffle The Drum, And You Can Loosen The Strings Of The Lyre, But Who Shall Command The Skylark Not To Sing?

Rob A Neighbour With A Smile.

And Only The Sure Of Foot Can Give A Hand To Him Who Stumbles.