I'd like to be able to get back to some of the earlier ones - but there are literally thousands or them. Hate to see them all go, but there's not much that I can do. I suppose that I could just delete them all.

Second this. It works much better.

Good to see you around again.

I used to have a grandma like that. When she was young, she had fiery red hair. She lived a block from us when I was growing up. She died back in 1994, and I still think about her often.

        The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
        It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
        Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
        It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
        'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
        The throned monarch better than his crown;
        His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
        The attribute to awe and majesty,
        Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
        But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
        It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
        It is an attribute to God himself;
        And earthly power doth then show likest God's
        When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
        Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
        That, in the course of justice, none of us
        Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
        And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
        The deeds of mercy.

                                        -- The Merchant of Venice, Act IV, Scene 1

And, speaking of what is deserved...

        God's bodykins, man, much better: use every man
        after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping?
        Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less
        they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.

                                        -- Hamlet, Scene II, Act 2

That looks odd. The entire poem, for context:

        Ozymandias

        I met a traveller from an antique land
        Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
        Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
        Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
        And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
        Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
        Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
        The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
        And on the pedestal these words appear:
        "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
        Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
        Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
        Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
        The lone and level sands stretch far away.

                                -- Percy Bysshe Shelley

It really shows what can be done with the sonnet form.

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

One of my favorites of Shelley's work.

...solving a problem by becoming the problem is not going to fix anything at all.

Exactly so. In fact, it generally makes things worse - sometimes much worse. But it is distressingly common.