There Still Might Be A Place For

I Was A Bore And Didn't Know When To Smile Or Fake It. Or Rather Worse, I Did But Didn't.

From The Beginning, Through The Middle Years And Up To The End: Too Bad, Too Bad, Too Bad.

I Like Women Who Haven’t Lived With Too Many Men. I Don’t Expect Virginity But I Simply Prefer Women Who Haven’t Been Rubbed Raw By Experience. There Is A Quality About Women Who Choose Men Sparingly; It Appears In Their Walk In Their Eyes In Their Laughter And In Their Gentle Hearts. Women Who Have Had Too Many Men Seem To Choose The Next One Out Of Revenge Rather Than With Feeling. When You Play The Field Selfishly Everything Works Against You: One Can’t Insist On Love Or Demand Affection. You’re Finally Left With Whatever You Have Been Willing To Give Which Often Is: Nothing.

That's What Friendship Means: Sharing The Prejudice Of Experience.

You've Got To Rise From The Floor Alone Or Fall Back Alone.