I Want To Write A Play. I'd

Let Her Tell Stories And Dance In The Rain, Somersault, Tumble And Run, Her Joys Must Be High As Her Sorrows Are Deep, Let Her Grow Like A Weed In The Sun.

So, If A City Has A Personality, Maybe It Also Has A Soul. Maybe It Dreams.

I Learned To Write By Writing.

I Know Not Whether You Came To Me Or I To You. Not Whether It Was A Dream, Asleep Or Awake. I Am Lost In The Darkness Of A Downcast Heart. Dream Or Reality. Let It Be Decided Tonight.

You Know You Can Set Fire To The Capacity To Say.