Oh To Have You With Me, To

Hell's Bells Ringing, My Secret Music.

How Can So Much Beauty Hide Such A Bruised And Steely Heart, And Why Must I Love Him, Why Must I Lean In My Weariness Upon His Irresistible Yet Indomitable Strength? Is He Not The Wizend Funeral Spirit Of A Dead Man In A Child's Clothes?

...what Was The Good Of Being A Movie Werewolf? You Howled At The Moon; You Couldn't Remember What You Did, And Then Somebody Shot You.

I Love New Orleans Physically. I Love The Trees And The Balmy Air And The Beautiful Days. I Have A Beautiful House Here.

And I Loved This Moment For All It's Pain...we Seemed For A Moment Like Two Parts Of The Same Thing.