Contempt Mates Well With Pity.

The Intelligence Community, For The Most Part, Has No Accountability At All; To The Congress, To Us The American People, And So They Feel That They Above The Law.

The Music In His Laughter Had A Way Of Rounding Off The Missing Notes In Her Soul.

Old As He Was, He Still Missed His Daddy Sometimes.

Contempt Mates Well With Pity.

Time's Passage Through The Memory Is Like Molten Glass That Can Be Opaque Or Crystalize At Any Given Moment At Will: A Thousand Days Are Melted Into One Conversation, One Glance, One Hurt, And One Hurt Can Be Shattered And Sprinkled Over A Thousand Days. It Is Silent And Elusive, Refusing To Be Damned And Dripped Out Day By Day; It Swirls Through The Mind While An Entire Lifetime Can Ride Like Foam On The Deceptive, Transparent Waves And Get Sprayed Onto The Conciousness At Ragged, Unexpected Intervals.