I Can Draw And Write, And You'd

Love Is The First Lie; Wisdom The Last.

I Couldn't Ever Boil Potatoes Over The Heat Of Your Affection. Your Love Would Never Bridge A Gap; It Wouldn't Even Fill Up The Hole That The Mice Came Through.

New York Rose Out Of The Water Like A Great Wave That Found It Impossible To Return Again And So Remained There In Horror, Peering Out Of The Million Windows Man Had Caged It With.

A Man Is Whole Only When He Takes Into Account His Shadow As Well As Himself - And What Is A Man's Shadow But His Upright Astonishment?

One Must Not Look Inward Too Much, While The Inside Is Yet Tender. I Do Not Wish To Frighten Myself Until I Can Stand It.