Oh Thumb, I Want A Drink It

Take Your Foot Out Of The Graveyard, They Are Busy Being Dead.

I Am So Imperfect, Can You Love Me When Really My Soul Is Deformed? Will You Love Me Anyhow?

To Love Another Is Somethinglike Prayer And It Can't Be Planned, You Just Fallinto Its Arms Because Your Belief Undoes Your Disbelief.

I Think Of Myself As Writing For One Person, That One Perfect Reader Who Understands And Loves.

Blue Eyes Wash Off Sometimes.