Facts Mean Nothing To Wounded Feelings.

We Are All Proprietary Toward Cities We Love. 'ah, You Should Have Seen Her When I Loved Her!' We Say, Reciting Glories Since Faded Or Defiled, Trusting Her To No One Else; That Others Should Know And Love Her In Her Present Fallen State (for She Must Fall Without Our Vigilant Love) Is A Species Of Betrayal.

What You Desire You Call Into Being.

Porches Are America's Lost Rooms.

The Best Work Is A Fusion Of Love And Praise.

Food Is My Drug Of Choice.