I Hold That Any Religion That Satisfies

The Monstropolous Beast Had Left His Bed. The Two Hundred Miles A Hour Wind Had Loosed His Chains. He Seized Hold Of His Dikes And Ran Forward Until He Met The Quarters; Uprooted Them Like Grass And Rushed On After His Supposed-to-be Conquerors, Rolling The Dikes, Rolling The Houses, Rolling The People In The Houses Along With Other Timbers. The Sea Was Walking The Earth With A Heavy Heel.

When We Sing The Blues, We're Singin' Out Our Hearts, We're Singing Out Our Feelings. Maybe We're Hurt And Just Can't Answer Back, Then We Sing Or Maybe Even Hum The Blues.

Distance Is The Only Cure For Certain Diseases.

She Stood There Until Something Fell Off The Shelf Inside Her.

Mystery Is The Essence Of Divinity