People Are Not Born Bastards. They Have

I Cannot Speculate On What Our Cluttered Mind Will Save- Sleepy Sundays, Or A Nosebleed After Love. I Know Only The Dying Heart Needs The Nourishment Of Memory To Live Beyond Too Many Winters.

It Happens Just Because We Need To Want And To Be Wanted Too, When Love Is Here Or Gone To Lie Down In The Darkness And Listen To The Warm.

I've Been Going A Long Time Now Along The Way I've Learned Some Things. You Have To Make The Good Times Yourself Take The Little Times And Make Them Into Big Times And Save The Times That Are All Right For The Ones That Aren't So Good.

Watch The Indolent Butterfly Playing On The Tall Flower In The Yard And Think About The Sun Going Down. It Always Does You Know.

Laws And Machines Are Shaped To Fit The Classes.