Happiness Is A By-product. It Is Not

This Is One Of The Cruelties Of The Theatre Of Life; We All Think Of Ourselves As Stars And Rarely Recognize It When We Are Indeed Mere Supporting Characters Or Even Supernumeraries.

Art Is Wine And Experience Is The Brandy We Distill From It.

Speakers' Nerves Affect Them In Various Ways. Some Tremble, Some Become Frenzied. I Lose All Confidence, And Suffer From A Leaden Oppression That Makes Me Wonder Why I Ever Agreed To Speak At All; The Tomb And The Conqueror Worm Seem Preferable To Delivering The Stupid And Piffling Speech I Have So Carefully Prepared.

The Little Boy Nodded At The Peony And The Peony Seemed To Nod Back. The Little Boy Was Neat, Clean And Pretty. The Peony Was Unchaste, Dishevelled As Peonies Must Be, And At The Height Of Its Beauty.(...) Every Hour Is Filled With Such Moments, Big With Significance For Someone.

Only A Fool Expects To Be Happy All The Time.