The Sea Is Nothing But A Library

Chestnuts In Stuffing Tastes Like Someone Chewed Up A Tree Branch And Then French-kissed It Into Your Mouth.

I Like To Think That I Get Better And Better As A Writer, But It Seems Pretty Easy To Me To Slip On Disguises Of Various People.

Every Last Souvenir Of The Love We Had, The Prizes & The Debris Of This Relationship, Like The Glitter In The Gutter When The Parade Has Passed, All The Everything & Whatnot Kicked To The Curb.

I Hadn't Even Been Looking, Not For You, And Now You Were My Heart's Desire.

The Trouble With Talking About Irony Is, It's Such A Slippery Thing That The Second You Start Talking About It, You're A Better Example Of It Than You Are An Analyst.