Like The Tender Fires Of Stars Moments

I Hear The Ruin Of All Space, Shattered Glass And Toppled Masonry, And Time One Livid Final Flame.

Civilization May Be Said Indeed To Be The Creation Of Its Outlaws.

I'd Love To Have The Whole Place Swimming In Roses

I Was Happier Then. Or Was That I? Or Am I Now I? Can't Bring Back Time. Like Holding Water In Your Hand. Would You Go Back To Then? Just Beginning Then. Would You?

Though People May Read More Into Ulysses Than I Ever Intended, Who Is To Say That They Are Wrong: Do Any Of Us Know What We Are Creating?which Of Us Can Control Our Scribblings? They Are The Script Of One's Personality Like Your Voice Or Your Walk