The Trick Is To Teach Yourself To

A Cloud-congested Caul That Is Alternately Red, Orange, Vermilion, Purple. Sometimes The Clouds Break Apart In Great, Slow Rafts, Letting Through Beams Of Innocent Yellow Sunlight That Are Bitterly Nostalgic For The Summer That Has Gone By.

The Old Sleep Poorly. Perhaps They Stand Watch.

You're Dead, George. You Just Don't Have The Sense To Lie Down.

Just Remember That Dumbo Didn't Need The Feather; The Magic Was In Him.

I Do Not Kill With My Gun; He Who Kills With His Gun Has Forgotten The Face Of His Father. I Kill With My Heart.