Human Beings, On The Contrary, Have A

To Be Of Use To The World Is The Only Way To Be Happy.

Every Time A Good Child Dies, An Angel Of God Comes Down To Earth. He Takes The Child In His Arms, Spreads Out His Great White Wings, And Flies With It All Over The Places The Child Loved On Earth. The Angel Plucks A Large Handful Of Flowers, And They Carry It With Them Up To God, Where The Flowers Bloom More Brightly Than They Ever Did On Earth.

The Whole World Is A Series Of Miracles, But We're So Used To Them We Call Them Ordinary Things.

Most Of The People Who Will Walk After Me Will Be Children, So Make The Beat Keep Time With Short Steps.

I Only Appear To Be Dead.