You Seem To Forget, Miss Flinn, That

Plant A Garden In Which Strange Plants Grow And Mysteries Bloom.

There's Shames A Man Can Never Reason Away, Though He Looks Back And Piles Up Reasons Over Them Forty Dozen Deep. And Maybe Those Are The Shames A Man Never Should Reason Away.

Me And Norman Mailer Have Talked About How Hard It Is In America To Get Better. Especially At Writing.

It Isn't By Getting Out Of The World That We Become Enlightened, But By Getting Into The World…by Getting So Tuned In That We Can Ride The Waves Of Our Existence And Never Get Tossed Because We Become The Waves.

The Flock Gets Sight Of A Spot Of Blood On Some Chicken And They All Go To Peckin' At It, See, Till They Rip The Chicken To Shreds, Blood And Bones And Feathers. But Usually A Couple Of The Flock Gets Spotted In The Fracas, Then It's Their Turn. And A Few More Gets Spots And Gets Pecked To Death, And More And More. Oh, A Peckin' Party Can Wipe Out The Whole Flock In A Matter Of A Few Hours, Buddy, I Seen It. A Mighty Awesome Sight. The Only Way To Prevent It—with Chickens—is To Clip Blinders On Them. So's They Can't See.