At The Heart Of All Great Art

We're All Like The Little Sailor. From The Harbors We Hear The Strains Of Accordions And The Murky Soapy Noises Of The Docks, From The Mountains We Receive The Dish Of Silence That The Shepherds Eat, But We Don't Hear More Than Our Own Distances. And What Distances Without End And Without Doors And Without Mountains!

New York Is A Meeting Place For Every Race In The World, But The Chinese, Armenians, Russians, And Germans Remain Foreigners. So Does Everyone Except The Blacks. There Is No Doubt But That The Blacks Exercise Great Influence In North America, And, No Matter What Anyone Says, They Are The Most Delicate, Spiritual Element In That World.

In Our Eyes The Roads Are Endless. Two Are Crossroads Of The Shadow.

Ditty Of First Desire In The Green Morning I Wanted To Be A Heart. A Heart. And In The Ripe Evening I Wanted To Be A Nightingale. A Nightingale. (soul, Turn Orange-colored. Soul, Turn The Color Of Love.) In The Vivid Morning I Wanted To Be Myself. A Heart. And At The Evening's End I Wanted To Be My Voice. A Nightingale. Soul, Turn Orange-colored. Soul, Turn The Color Of Love.

Verde Que Te Quiero Verde. Verde Viento. Verde Ramas. Green I Love You Green. Green Wind. Green Branches.