Above All, Do Not Attempt To Use

Edmund, Give A Special Goodbye To Trumpkin For Me. He's Been A Brick.

If Ever They Remembered Their Life In This World It Was As One Remembers A Dream.

Gratitude Looks To The Past And Love To The Present; Fear, Avarice, Lust, And Ambition Look Ahead.

The Heart Of Christianity Is A Myth Which Is Also A Fact. The Old Myth Of The Dying God, Without Ceasing To Be Myth, Comes Down From The Heaven Of Legend And Imagination To The Earth Of History. It Happens - At A Particular Date, In A Particular Place, Followed By Definable Historical Consequences. We Pass From A Balder Or An Osiris, Dying Nobody Knows When Or Where, To A Historical Person Crucified (it Is All In Order) Under Pontius Pilate. By Becoming Fact It Does Not Cease To Be Myth: That Is The Miracle.

The Moment Good Taste Knows Itself, Some Of Its Goodness Is Lost.