The Love Boat Has Crashed Against The

In The Church Of My Heart The Choir Is On Fire

Our Planet Is Poorly Equipped For Delight. One Must Snatch Gladness From The Days That Are. In This Life It's Not Difficult To Die. To Make Life Is More Difficult By Far.

Gentle Souls! You Play Your Love On The Violin. The Crude Ones Play It On The Drums Violently. But Can You Turn Yourselves Inside Out, Like Me And Become Just Two Lips Entirely?

My Verse Has Brought Me No Roubles To Spare: No Craftsmen Have Made Mahogany Chairs For My House.

They Stood Brow To Brow, Brown To White, Black To Black, He Supporting Her Elbows, She Playing Her Limp Light Fingers Over His Collarbone, And How He "ladored,"he Said, The Dark Aroma Of Her Hair Blending With Crushed Lily Stalks, Turkish Cigarettes And The Lassitude That Comes From "lass." "no, No, Don't," She Said, I Must Wash, Quick-quick, Ada Must Wash; But For Yet Another Immortal Moment They Stood Embraced In The Hushed Avenue, Enjoying As They Had Never Enjoyed Before, The "happy-forever" Feeling At The End Of Never-ending Fairy Tales.