It Was A Rainy Night. It Was

As Early Pioneers In The Knowing, That When You Lose Your Reason, You Attain Highest Perfect Knowing.

Paris Is A Woman But London Is An Independent Man Puffing His Pipe In A Pub.

The Air Was Soft, The Stars So Fine, The Promise Of Every Cobbled Alley So Great, That I Thought I Was In A Dream.

I'm Catholic And I Can't Commit Suicide, But I Plan To Drink Myself To Death.

La Is The Loneliest And Most Brutal Of American Cities; Ny Gets God-awful Cold In The Winter But There's A Feeling Of Wacky Comradeship Somewhere In Some Streets. La Is A Jungle.