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When something [an affliction] happens to you, you either let it defeat you, or you defeat it.

I know of no man of genius who had not to pay, in some affliction or defect either physical or spiritual, for what the gods had given him.

Strength is born in the deep silence of long-suffering hearts; not amid joy.

Though all afflictions are evils in themselves, yet they are good for us, because they discover to us our disease and tend to our cure.

As threshing separates the wheat from the chaff, so does affliction purify virtue.

And the LORD said, I have surely seen the affliction of my people which [are] in Egypt, and have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters; for I know their sorrows.

The dj said that when Ted Nugent (who is an animal stalker like Bush) got 40 stitches from a chain saw less forgiving deer were laughing in the underbrush.

No one could be more happy than a man who has never known affliction.

Bribed men hate their bribers.

TO A MOUSE On turning her up in her nest, with the plough, November, 1785 Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie, O, what panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murd'ring pattle! I'm truly sorry Man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen-icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request: I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, An' never miss't! Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green! An' bleak December's winds ensuin, Baith snell an' keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast, An' weary Winter comin fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald. To thole the Winter's sleety dribble, An' cranreuch cauld! But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy! Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! The present only toucheth thee: But Och! I backward cast my e'e, On prospects drear! An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an' fear!