The Fog Comes On Little Cat Feet.

I'm An Idealist. I Don't Know Where I'm Going, But I'm On My Way.

The Buffaloes Are Gone. And Those Who Saw The Buffaloes Are Gone.

Money Is Power, Freedom, A Cushion, The Root Of All Evil, The Sum Of Blessings.

The Peace Of Great Books Be For You, Stains Of Pressed Clover Leaves On Pages, Bleach Of The Light Of Years Held In Leather.

Poetry Is The Cipher Key To The Five Mystic Wishes Packed In A Hollow Silver Bullet Fed To A Flying Fish.