I Hope It Is True That A

As I Grew Older I Became A Drunk. Why? Because I Like Ecstasy Of The Mind.

Writing At Least Is A Silent Meditation Even Though You’re Going A Hundred Miles An Hour.

And As Far As I Can See The World Is Too Old For Us To Talk About It With Our New Words.

All He Needed Was A Wheel In His Hand And Four On The Road.

A Man Who Allows Wild Passion To Arise Within, Himself Burns His Heart, Then After Burning Adds The Wind That Thereto Which Ignites The Fire Again, Or Not, As The Case May Be.