Laughter Nibbled At My Lips Like Tiny

I Think Every Creative Impulse That A Working Writer, Or Artist Of Any Sort Has, Comes Out Of That Dark Old Country Where Dreams Come From.

I Felt Tears Sting Into My Eyes, And Took A Deep Swallow Of The First Champagne I Had Ever Tasted, Remembering That I Had Read Somewhere That The Monk Who Invented It Said, On First Tasting It, 'it Is Like Drinking Stars'.

It's Unimaginable To Me That I Wouldn't Write, But It's Very Imaginable That I Won't Write For A Little While.

I Could Run Nearly Naked On A Hot, Windy Beach And Plunge Without Care Into A Running Diamond Sea; Roll On The Sand And Fling My Arms Wide To The Sun And Still Be What I Was...young.

Didn't I Say I'd Always Be Your Same Stars? If You Get To Missing Me, Just Look Up.