What I Miss Today More Than Anything

...my Heart May Have Been In It But My Soul Was Not.

When I'm Sitting In The Church Alone, I Can Hear Singing Of The Old People. I Can Hear Their Singing And I Can Hear Their Praying, And Sometimes I Hum One Of Their Songs.

I Still Don't Even Know If The Sheriff Will Let Me See Him. And Suppose He Did; What Then? What Do I Say To Him? Do I Know What A Man Is? Do I Know How A Man Is Supposed To Die? I'm Still Trying To Find Out How A Man Should Live. Am I Supposed To Tell Someone How To Die Who Has Never Lived?

Everything's Been Said, But It Needs Saying Again.

The Six Golden Rules Of Writing: Read, Read, Read, And Write, Write, Write.