I Have Been In Sorrow's Kitchen And

Gods Always Love The People Who Make 'em.

When A Man Keeps Beating Me To The Draw Mentally, He Begins To Get Glamorous.

From Barren Brown Stems To Glistening Leaf-buds; From The Leaf-buds To Snowy Virginity Of Bloom…it Was Like A Flute Song Forgotten In Another Existence And Remembered Again. What? How? Why? This Singing She Heard That Had Nothing To Do With Her Ears. The Rose Of The World Was Breathing Out Smell. It Followed Her Through All Her Waking Moments And Caressed Her In Her Sleep.

Justice, Like Beauty, Is In The Eye Of The Beholder.

Grown People Know That They Do Not Always Know The Way Of Things, And Even If They Think They Know, They Do Not Know Where And How They Got The Proof.