The Dreamer Whose Dreams Are Non-utilitarian Has

Through Endless Night The Earth Whirls Toward A Creation Unknown.

One's Destination Is Never A Place But Rather A New Way Of Looking At Things.

All The Men She's Been With And Now You, Just You, And The Barges Going By, Masts And Hulls, The Whole Damned Current Of Life Flowing Through You, Through Her, Through All The Guys Behind You And After You, The Flowers And The Birds And The Sun Streaming In And The Fragrance Of It Choking You, Annihilating You.

I Used To Think A Bird Couldn't Fly If Its Wings Got Wet.

I'd Rather Sit Down And Write A Letter Than Call Someone Up. I Hate The Telephone.