Drive Away And Try To Keep Smiling.

The Low Bird Is Not Picked Tenderly Out Of The Dust By Its Fellows; Rather, It Is Dispatched Quickly And Without Mercy.

Let’s Talk, You And I. Let’s Talk About Fear. The House Is Empty As I Write This; A Cold February Rain Is Falling Outside. It’s Night. Sometimes When The Wind Blows The Way It’s Blowing Now, We Lose The Power. But For Now It’s On, And So Let’s Talk Very Honestly About Fear. Let’s Talk Very Rationally About Moving To The Rim Of Madnessand... And Perhaps Over The Edge.

Because Things Like This You Can Only Ssay Once. And You Either Get It Wrong Or Right, It's The End Either Way, Because It's Too Hard To Ever Try To Say Again.

Sometimes A Cigar Is Just A Smoke And A Story's Just A Story

Give Me Just Enough Information So That I Can Lie Convincingly.