I Was Surprised, As Always, Be How

It Is Possible For The Human Spirit To Win After All.

It Seemed Like A Matter Of Minutes When We Began Rolling In The Foothills Before Oakland And Suddenly Reached A Height And Saw Stretched Out Ahead Of Us The Fabulous White City Of San Francisco On Her Eleven Mystic Hills With The Blue Pacific And Its Advancing Wall Of Potato-patch Fog Beyond, And Smoke And Goldenness In The Late Afternoon Of Time.

To Think That So Much Comes To So Little, To Think That Life Is Really Short.

The Cowboy Music Twanged In The Roadhouse And Carried Across The Fields, All Sadness. It Was All Right With Me. I Kissed My Baby And We Put Out The Lights.

The Truth Of The Matter Is We Don't Understand Our Women; We Blame On Them And It's All Our Fault.