I Don't Get Nearly Enough Credit In

If There Was Ever A More Perfect Day In The History Of Time It Isn't One I've Heard About.

I, A Late Riser, Fantasise About Getting Up Every Morning At 5 A.m. To Fetch The Horses In From The Fields.

It Might Go Down Better Than Appearing As A Giant Reptile Encased In A Ball Of Fire And Forcing Yourself On Her.' 'why Do You Always Have To Bring That Up?

A Piano Might Fall On Your Head, He Said, But It Also Might Not. And In The Meantime You Never Know. Something Nice Might Happen.

I Give Thanks For All That Has Passed, For All That Is Passing, And For All That Is Yet To Come.