Gasping For Breath, The Body Still Battling

But It's Sunday, Mr. Bell. Clocks Are Slow On Sundays.

[t]he Army Of Wrongness Rampant In The World Might As Well March Over Me.

I Don't Mean I'd Mind Being Rich And Famous. That's Very Much On My Schedule And Someday I'll Try To Get Around To It.

A Beautiful Day With The Buoyancy Of A Bird.

June, July, All Through The Warm Months She Hibernated Like A Winter Animal Who Did Not Know Spring Had Come And Gone.