My Problem Lies In Reconciling My Gross

I Always See About Six Scuffles A Night When I Come To San Francisco. That's One Of The Town's Charms.

Someone, I Don't Know Who- It Might Have Even Been Me- Said, Any Man At The Age Of Twenty-five Who Is Not A Communist Has No Heart: Any Man Who Is Still Is At The Age Of Thirty-five Has No Head.

It Isn't What They Say About You, It's What They Whisper.

I Crave The Indulgence Of My Senses But This Is Countered By An Interior Desire That Is Even Keener Than My Senses To Know The Meaning Of Things

There Is Nothing Like Lying Flat On Your Back On The Deck, Alone Except For The Helmsman Aft At The Wheel, Silence Except For The Lapping Of The Sea Against The Side Of The Ship. At That Time You Can Be Equal To Ulysses And Brother To Him.