Among The Monsters, I Am Well Hidden;

Spindly Branches Of Buttercups Were Secreted Among Gleaming Stems Still Moist At The Roots From Last Night's Rain That Had Washedand Refreshed The Entire Wood, Had Dowered It In Poignant Transparency, The Unique, Inconsolable Quality Of Rainy Countries, As If All Was Glimpsed Through Tears.

Comedy Is Tragedy That Happens To Other People.

Nostalgia, The Vice Of The Aged. We Watch So Many Old Movies Our Memories Come In Monochrome.

What A Joy It Is To Dance And Sing!

Strangers Used To Gather Together At The Cinema And Sit Together In The Dark, Like Ancient Greeks Participating In The Mysteries, Dreaming The Same Dream In Unison.