Africa Has Her Mouth On Moses.

Perhaps I Am Just A Coward Who Loves To Laugh At Life Better Than I Do Cry With It. But When I Do Get To Crying, Boy, I Can Roll A Mean Tear.

It's A Funny Thing, The Less People Have To Live For, The Less Nerve They Have To Risk Losing Nothing.

When God Had Made The Man, He Made Him Out Of Stuff That Sung All The Time And Glittered All Over. Some Angels Got Jealous And Chopped Him Into Millions Of Pieces, But Still He Glittered And Hummed. So They Beat Him Down To Nothing But Sparks But Each Little Spark Had A Shine And A Song. So They Covered Each One Over With Mud. And The Lonesomeness In The Sparks Make Them Hunt For One Another.

I Have The Nerve To Walk My Own Way, However Hard, In My Search For Reality, Rather Than Climb Upon The Rattling Wagon Of Wishful Illusions.

Folklore Is The Boiled-down Juice, Or Pot-likker, Of Human Living.