What's the use coming home to get the blues over what can't be helped.
We are such things as rubbish is made of, so let's drink up and forget it.
I have had my dance with Folly, nor do I shirk the blame; I have sipped the so-called Wine of Life and paid the price of shame; But I know that I shall find surcease, the rest my spirit craves, Where the rainbows play in the flying spray, 'Mid the keen salt kiss of the waves.
Curiosity killed the cat.
God gave us mouths that close and ears that don't... that should tell us something.
Writing is my vacation from living.