First Of All, It Was October, A

For About 150 Days A Year In Venice, The Sun Doesn't Show Through The Mist Until Noon.

I Prefer To See Myself As The Janus, The Two-faced God Who Is Half Pollyanna And Half Cassandra, Warning Of The Future And Perhaps Living Too Much In The Past - A Combination Of Both.

A Conglomerate Heap Of Trash, That's What I Am. But It Burns With A High Flame.

No Person Ever Died That Had A Family.

My Tunes And Numbers Are Here. They Have Filled My Years, The Years When I Refused To Die. And In Order To Do That I Wrote, I Wrote, I Wrote, At Noon Or 3:00 A.m. So As Not To Be Dead.