Sure Baby, Mañana. It Was Always Mañana.

But Night Would Come And With It The Mountain Moon And The Lake Would Be Moon - Laned And I'd Go Out And Sit In The Grass And Meditate Facing West, Wishing There Were A Personal God In All This Impersonal Matter.

The Happiness Consists In Realizing That It Is All A Great Strange Dream.

For Life Is Holy And Every Moment Is Precious.

If You Tell A True Story, You Can't Be Wrong.

After All, A Homeless Man Has Reason To Cry, Everything In The World Is Pointed Against Him.