If Only The Strength Of The Love

People Who Get Through Life Dependent On Other People's Possessions Are Always The First To Lecture You On How Little Possessions Count.

I Resent The Creation Of A World In Which Beauty Is A Reminder Of What We're Losing Rather Than A Celebration Of What We Have.

Beyond Love, Beyond Unrequited Love, Perhaps Even Beyond Any Other Passion Known To Humanity, Deep, Deep In The Depths Of The Turgid, Clinging, Swamplike Pit Of Despair That Lies Dormant Within Every Soul, Lurks Jealousy. Jealousy, That Most Demeaning And Debilitating Of Emotions. Jealousy, Which Can Double The Strength Of The Love Upon Which It Is Based, But Whilst Doubling It, Warp And Pervert It, Untill It Is No Longer Recognizable As The Thing Of Beauty It Once Was. Jealous Love Is No More Like True Love Than Mr Hyde Was Like Dr Jekyll Or A Stagnant Swamp Is Like A Freshwater Lake.

There Are Lots Of Things I Could Have Done For The Money, But I've Made A Great Living Doing The Things I Want To Do.

I Try Hard Not To Preach, But I Get Carried Away, Which Is A Mistake, But It's A Risk Worth Running.