Even When You Feel You've Reached The

Everybody Has The Answers Or They'll Make Them Up For You. Just Once I'd Like To Hear A Brand-new Question.

I Cannot Speculate On What Our Cluttered Mind Will Save- Sleepy Sundays, Or A Nosebleed After Love. I Know Only The Dying Heart Needs The Nourishment Of Memory To Live Beyond Too Many Winters.

Laws And Machines Are Shaped To Fit The Classes.

Poetry Is Fact Given Over To Imagery.

People Often Say 'i Live For My Art.' Bullshit! If You Are Given A Talent It's To Be Used. It's Not In The Private Domain.