All In All, Death Is Something Like

When You Stop To Examine The Way In Which Our Words Are Formed And Uttered, Our Sentences Are Hard-put To It To Survive The Disaster Of Their Slobbery Origins.

You Can Lose Your Way Groping Among The Shadows Of The Past. It's Frightening How Many People And Things There Are In A Man's Past That Have Stopped Moving. The Living People We've Lost In The Crypts Of Time Sleep So Soundly Side By Side With The Dead That The Same Darkness Envelops Them All. As We Grow Older, We No Longer Know Whom To Awaken, The Living Or The Dead.

This Instinctive Repulsion Which Tradespeople Inspire In Men Of Sensitive Feeling Is One Of The Very Rare Consolations For Being So Impoverished Which Are Given To Those Of Us Who Don’t Sell Anything To Anybody.

I Have Never Voted In My Life... I Have Always Known And Understood That The Idiots Are In A Majority So It's Certain They Will Win.

Life Is Filigree Work. What Is Written Clearly Is Not Worth Much, It's The Transparency That Counts.