The creative act is not pure. History evidences it. Sociology extracts it. The writer loses Eden, writes to be read and comes to realize that he is answerable to no one.

Life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

Sustainability isn't an option; it's a necessity for the energy sector.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

唯一比被人谈论更糟糕的事情就是没人谈论你。