The Bus Roared On. I Was Going

The Truth Of The Matter Is, You Die, All You Do Is Die, And Yet You Live, Yes You Live, And That's No Harvard Lie.

The Best Teacher Is Experience And Not Through Someone's Distorted Point Of View

And Before Me Was The Great Raw Bulge And Bulk Of My American Continent; Somewhat Far Across, Gloomy, Crazy New York Was Throwing Up Its Cloud Of Dust And Brown Steam. There Is Something Brown And Holy About The East; And California Is White Like Washlines And Emptyheaded - At Least That's What I Thought Then.

The Beauty Of Things Must Be That They End.

And As Far As I Can See The World Is Too Old For Us To Talk About It With Our New Words.