I Talk To God But The Sky

I Love People. Everybody. I Love Them, I Think, As A Stamp Collector Loves His Collection. Every Story, Every Incident, Every Bit Of Conversation Is Raw Material For Me.

I Am Not Cruel, Only Truthful.

How Can You Be So Many Women To So Many Strange People, Oh You Strange Girl?

I Wanted To Crawl In Between Those Black Lines Of Print, The Way You Crawl Through A Fence, And Go To Sleep Under That Beautiful Big Green Fig-tree.

You've Only Got So Long To Live.