People Are Not Born Bastards. They Have

Once I Thought Ideas Were Exceptions Not The Rule. That Is Not So. Ideas Are So Plentiful That They Ride On Air. You Have Only To Reach Out And Snatch One.

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.

And If The World Breaks Down, I'll Be Around.

The Journey Back Is Always Longer Than The Forward Run.

I've Come To Terms With It, It Knows I Know.