Distance Is The Only Cure For Certain

Every Heart Has Its Graveyard.

But As De Old Folk Always Say, Ah'm Born But Ah Ain't Dead. No Tellin' Whut Ah'm Liable Tuh Do Yet.

Perhaps, It Is Just As Well To Be Rash And Foolish For A While. If Writers Were Too Wise, Perhaps No Books Would Be Written At All. It Might Be Better To Ask Yourself "why?" Afterwards Than Before. Anyway, The Force From Somewhere In Space Which Commands You To Write In The First Place, Gives You No Choice. You Take Up The Pen When You Are Told, And Write What Is Commanded. There Is No Agony Like Bearing An Untold Story Inside You.

I Have The Nerve To Walk My Own Way, However Hard, In My Search For Reality, Rather Than Climb Upon The Rattling Wagon Of Wishful Illusions.

..she Began To Stand Around The Gate And Expect Things. What Things? She Didn't Know Exactly. Her Breath Was Gusty And Short. She Knew Things That Nobody Ever Told Her. For Instance, The Words Of The Trees And The Wind. .. She Knew The World Was A Stallion Rolling In The Blue Pasture Of Ether. She Knew That God Tore Down The Old World Every Evening And Built A New One By Sun-up. It Was Wonderful To See It Take Form With The Sun And Emerge From The Gray Dust Of Its Making.