No Man Is An Island Unto Himself.

Thou Art Slave To Fate, Chance, Kings, And Desperate Men, And Dost With Poison, War, And Sickness Dwell, And Poppy, Or Charms, Can Make Us Sleep As Well, And Better Than Thy Stroke. Why Swell'st Thou Then?

To A Large Degree, Since The Beginning Of Time, Charisma Or The Lack Of It Has Impacted Upon Those In Quest Of Acclaim. As Media Expands, This Has Become Ever More Vital. Thus, Demeanor If Unappealing, Can Defeat One's Likelihood Of Success, Causing The Death Of Prospects Whilst They Are Still Embryonic.

We Study Health, And We Deliberate Upon Our Meats And Drink And Air And Exercises, And We Hew And We Polish Every Stone That Goes To That Building; And So Our Health Is A Long And Regular Work. But In A Minute A Cannon Batters All, Overthrows All, Demolishes All; A Sickness Unprevented For All Our Diligence, Unsuspected For All Our Curiosity, Nay, Undeserved, If We Consider Only Disorder, Summons Us, Seizes Us, Possesses Us, Destroys Us In An Instant.

Nature's Lay Idiot, I Taught Thee To Love.

To Be No Part Of Any Body, Is To Be Nothing.