Every Bond Is A Bond To Sorrow.

Wipe Your Glosses With What You Know.

To Discover The Mode Of Life Or Of Art Whereby My Spirit Could Express Itself In Unfettered Freedom.

My Words In Her Mind: Cold Polished Stones Sinking Through A Quagmire.

O Thanks Be To The Great God I Got Somebody To Give Me What I Badly Wanted To Put Some Heart Up Into Me Youve No Chances At All Inthis Place Like You Used Long Ago I Wish Somebody Would Write Me A Loveletter.

The Incompatibility Of Aquacity With The Erratic Originality Of Genius.