He Died Fighting For What He Believed

I Vividly Remember Being 14. That Was The Age When I Started To Get Happy: I Started Being A Writer And Stopped Being A Loser.

The Worst Time To Feel Alone Is When You're In A Crowd.

Nice Day For A Funeral.

I Hear It Still. As I Lay Down My Pen And Take To My Bed, I Am Aware Of The Bow Being Drawn Across The Bridge And The Music Rises Into The Night Sky. It Is Far Away And Barely Audible - But There It Is! A Pizzicato. Then A Tremelo. The Style Is Unmistakable. It Is Sherlock Holmes Who Is Playing. It Must Be. I Hope With All My Heart That He Is Playing For Me . . .

Let Me Tell You, Alex. He's A Crook. He's Based Here In Miami. He's A Nasty Piece Of Work." "he's Mexican" Troy Added.