In This Room The Hours Of Love

It’s The Order Of Things: Each One Gets A Taste Of Honey Then The Knife.

My Mother, Poor Fish, Wanting To Be Happy, Beaten Two Or Three Times A Week, Telling Me To Be Happy: "henry, Smile! Why Don't You Ever Smile?" And Then She Would Smile, To Show Me How, And It Was The Saddest Smile I Ever Saw

If You Have The Ability To Love, Love Yourself First.

Bad Taste Creates Many More Millionaires Than Good Taste.

The Trouble With These People Is That Their Cities Have Never Been Bombed And Their Mothers Have Never Been Told To Shut Up.