I'm A Fart In A Gale Of

The Priceless Galaxy Of Misinformation Called The Mind.

We Are Adhering To Life Now With Our Last Muscle - The Heart.

I Have Been Loved,' She Said, 'by Something Strange, And It Has Forgotten Me.

Our Bones Ache Only While The Flesh Is On Them. Stretch It As Thin As The Temple Flesh Of An Ailing Woman And Still It Serves To Ache The Bone And To Move The Bone About; And In Like Manner The Night Is A Skin Pulled Over The Head Of Day That The Day May Be In A Torment. We Will Find No Comfort Until The Night Melts Away; Until The Fury Of The Night Rots Out Its Fire.

We Are Beginning To Wonder Whether A Servant Girl Hasn't The Best Of It After All. She Knows How The Salad Tastes Without The Dressing, And She Knows How Life's Lived Before It Gets To The Parlor Door.