Someone Is Always At My Elbow Reminding

You'se Something Tuh Make Uh Man Forgit To Git Old And Forgit Tuh Die.

To Me, Bitterness Is The Under-arm Odor Of Wishful Weakness. It Is The Graceless Acknowledgment Of Defeat.

I Belong To No Race Nor Time. I Am The Eternal Feminine With Its String Of Beads.

When God Had Made The Man, He Made Him Out Of Stuff That Sung All The Time And Glittered All Over. Some Angels Got Jealous And Chopped Him Into Millions Of Pieces, But Still He Glittered And Hummed. So They Beat Him Down To Nothing But Sparks But Each Little Spark Had A Shine And A Song. So They Covered Each One Over With Mud. And The Lonesomeness In The Sparks Make Them Hunt For One Another.

It Is One Of The Blessings Of This World That Few People See Visions And Dream Dreams.