My Rage Outweighs My Shame, As Always

That Is The Remarkable Thing About Drinking: It Brings People Together So Quickly, But Between Night And Morning It Sets An Interval Again Of Years.

Through The Years Our Business Has Been Killing;-it Was Our First Calling In Life. Our Knowledge Of Lif Eis Limited To Death.

We Are Little Flames Poorly Sheltered By Frail Walls Against The Storm Of Dissolution And Madness, In Which We Flicker And Sometimes Almost Go Out…we Creep In Upon Ourselves And With Big Eyes Stare Into The Night…and Thus We Wait For Morning.

The Wisest Were Just The Poor And Simple People. They Knew The War To Be A Misfortune, Whereas Those Who Were Better Off, And Should Have Been Able To See More Clearly What The Consequences Would Be, Were Beside Themselves With Joy.

Life Did Not Intend To Make Us Perfect. Whoever Is Perfect Belongs In A Museum.