Everything You Gather Is Just One That

Wake Up To Find Out That You Are The Eyes Of The World.

Being In A Floodplain Is Like Sitting Down In A Bathtub.

The Storyteller Makes No Choice, Soon You Will Not Hear His Voice, His Job Is To Shed Light, And Not To Master

Sit Back Picture Yourself Swooping Up A Shell Of Purple With Foam Crests Of Crystal Drops Soft Nigh They Fall Unto The Sea Of Morning Creep-very-softly Mist...and Then Sort Of Cascade Tinkley-bell Like (must I Take You By The Hand, Every So Slowly Type) And Then Conglomerate Suddenly Into A Peal Of Silver Vibrant Uncomprehendingly, Blood Singingly, Joyously Resoundingbells....by My Faith If This Be Insanity, Then For The Love Of God Permit Me To Remain Insane.

There Are Things You Can Replace, And Others You Cannot. The Time Has Come To Weigh Those Things, This Space Is Getting Hot.