The Fact Of The Matter Is That

He Smelled The Garden, The Yellow Shield Of Light Smote His Eyes, And He Whispered, "life Is So Beautiful." ... Yes, He Thought, If I Can Die Saying, "life Is So Beautiful," Then Nothing Else Is Important.

What We Think Of As Our Sensitivity Is Only The Higher Evolution Of Terror In A Poor Dumb Beast. We Suffer For Nothing. Our Own Death Wish Is Our Only Real Tragedy.

I'll Make Him An Offer He Can't Refuse.

Life Is Like A Box Of Hand Grenades,you Never Know What Will Blow You To Kingdom Come

I Have Always Believed Helping Your Fellow Man Is Profitable In Every Sense, Personally And Bottom Line.