I Cannot Understand Why My Arm Is

Fare Thee Well My Nightingale, I Lived But To Be Near You. Thow You Are Singing Somewhere Still I Can No Longer Hear You.

It Doesn't Matter How Anything Happens.

A Sip Of Wine, A Cigarette, And Then It’s Time To Go. I Tidied Up The Kitchenette; I Tuned The Old Banjo. I’m Wanted At The Traffic-jam. They’re Saving Me A Seat.

Growing Old Becomes Clear To You At A Certain Point. I Think It's After The Age Of 70 You Realize - You Begin To Actually Be Convinced - You're Growing Older.

We Are Not Mad. We Are Human.we Want To Love, And Someone Must Forgive Us For The Paths We Take To Love, For The Paths Are Many And Dark, And We Are Ardent And Cruel In Our Journey.