Love Your Self's Self Where It Lives.

Of Course The New Testament Is Very Small. Its Mouth Opens Four Times As Out-of-date As A Prehistoric Monster, Yet Somehow Man-made.

All In All, I'd Say, The World Is Strangling.

When They Turn The Sun On Again I'll Plant Children Under It, I'll Light Up My Soul With A Match And Let It Sing.

There Is Joy In All: In The Hair I Brush Each Morning, In The Cannon Towel, Newly Washed, That I Rub My Body With Each Morning.

The Soul Was Not Cured, It Was As Full As A Clothes Closet Of Dresses That Did Not Fit.