A Human Life Is A Story Told

Every Town, Like Every Man, Has Its Own Countenance; They Have A Common Likeness And Yet Are Different; One Keeps In His Mind All Their Peculiar Touches.

Happy Domestic Life Is Like A Beautiful Summer's Evening; The Heart Is Filled With Peace; And Everything Around Derives A Peculiar Glory.

‎"does All The Beauty Of The World Stop When You Die?" "no," Said The Old Oak; "it Will Last Much Longer - Longer Than I Can Even Think Of." "well, Then," Said The Little May-fly, "we Have The Same Time To Live; Only We Reckon Differently.

Life Is Like A Beautiful Melody, Only The Lyrics Are Messed Up.

Don't Ask Me How I Am! I Understand Nothing More!