I Guess This Is What Marriage Is,

You Can Count The Dead, But You Can't Count The Cost. We've Got No Math For Heaven.

People Think They Know The Mystery Of Living In Your Skin. They Don't. There's No One Who Knows Except The Person Who Carts It Around Her Own Self.

Increasingly I Think Of Myself As Some Strange And Solitary Conductor, Introduced To A Group Of Very Dynamic Musicians Who Happen To Be My Characters, And I Have No Idea How They Are Going To Play Together, And I Have Certainly No Idea How I Am Going To Put Manners On Them.

Every Man With His Own Peculiar Vice. His Will Hardly Rock Heaven Or Hell.

The City Was Bigger Than Its Buildings, Bigger Than Its Inhabitants Too. It Had Its Own Nuances. It Accepted Whatever Came Its Way, The Crime And The Violence And The Little Shocks Of Good That Crawled Out From Underneath The Everyday.