Disease Is Nature's Revenge For Our Destructiveness.

We Mark Some Days As Fair, Some As Foul, Because We Do Not See That The Character Of Every Day As Identical

A Lizard In The Spring - Hear His Darling Sing. A Bird With Wings To Fly - Go Back To His Darling Weep And Moan Till He Dies. A Mole In The Ground - Root A Mountain Down.

What You Have Lost Will Not Be Returned To You; It Always Be Lost. You’re Left With Only Your Scars To Mark The Void. All You Can Choose To Do Is Go On, Or Not. But If You Go On, It’s Knowing You Carry Your Scars With You.

One Thing He Discovered With A Great Deal Of Astonishment Was That Music Held For Him More Then Just Pleasure. There Was Meat To It. The Grouping Of Sounds, Their Forms In The Air As They Rang Out And Faded, Said Something Comforting To Him About The Rule Of Creation. What The Music Said Was That There Is A Right Way For Things To Be Ordered So That Life Might Not Always Be Just Tangle And Drift, But Have A Shape, An Aim. It Was A Powerful Argument That Life Did Not Just Happen.

My Opinion Was That If Hogs Are Biting You So Often That You Have To Stop And Make Up A Specific Word For It, Maybe Lack Of Vocabulary Is Not Your Most Pressing Problem.