Suicide Is A Privilege Of Man Which

Human Nature Craves Novelty.

Wine Maketh The Band Quivering, The Eye Watery, The Night Unquiet, Lewd Dreams, A Stinking Breath In The Morning, And An Utter Forgetfulness Of All Things.

Made Up Of The Glories Of The Most Precious Gems, To Describe Them Is A Matter Of Inexpressible Difficulty. For There Is Amongst Them The Gentler Fire Of The Ruby, There Is The Rich Purple Of The Amethyst, There Is The Sea-green Of The Emerald, And All Shining Together In An Indescribable Union. Others, By An Excessive Heightening Of Their Hues Equal All The Colours Of The Painter, Others The Flame Of Burning Brimstone, Or Of A Fire Quickened By Oil.

Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Cincinnatus Was Ploughing His Four Jugera Of Land Upon The Vaticanian Hill, The Same That Are Still Known As The Quintian Meadows, When The Messenger Brought Him The Dictatorship, Finding Him, The Tradition Says, Stripped To The Work.