Death Is The Only Real Elegance.

Without You, Dearest Dearest I Couldn't See Or Hear Or Feel Or Think - Or Live - I Love You So And I'm Never In All Our Lives Going To Let Us Be Apart Another Night.

One Illusion Is As Good As Another.

Why Is There Happiness And Comfort And Excitement Where You Are And No Where Else In The World.

I Play The Radio And Moon About...and Dream Of Utopias Where Its Always July The 24th 1935, In The Middle Of Summer Forever.

Memories Should Be Sharp When One Has Nothing Else To Live For