I Can Control The Weather With My

If I'm Hanging Around Too Much, My Wife And Kids Say, 'hey, Why Don't You Go Downstairs And Start A New Novel?'

You Write A Scene, And It Works Or It Doesn't. It's Immediate.

And I Wish That I Was Made Of Stone So That I Would Not Have To See A Beauty Impossible To Define A Beauty Impossible To Believe A Beauty Impossible To Endure The Blood Imparted In Little Sips The Smell Of You Still On My Hands As I Bring The Cup Up To My Lips No God Up In The Sky No Devil Beneath The Sea Could Do The Job That You Did, Baby Of Bringing Me To My Knees

I've Never Been Interested In Being Relevant.

It's An Australian Thing To Be Dismissive. We Find That Endearing. Americans Don't. They Believe What You Say.