Anger Is Its Own Excuse And Its

I Think We All Get Too Caught Up In Doing Instead Of Just Being Sometimes.

I Think Every Creative Impulse That A Working Writer, Or Artist Of Any Sort Has, Comes Out Of That Dark Old Country Where Dreams Come From.

I Could Run Nearly Naked On A Hot, Windy Beach And Plunge Without Care Into A Running Diamond Sea; Roll On The Sand And Fling My Arms Wide To The Sun And Still Be What I Was...young.

I Don't Think You Ever Think Of A Big City As Sweet Or Community, But There Are Cities That I Think Of As Charming And Particular And Interesting Cities. I Live In One Now, Charleston.

Didn't I Say I'd Always Be Your Same Stars? If You Get To Missing Me, Just Look Up.