The Way A Crow Shook Down On

Only God And I Knew What I Meant When I Wrote It, Now Only God Knows

The Line-storm Clouds Fly Tattered And Swift, The Road Is Forlorn All Day, Where A Myriad Snowy Quartz Stones Lift, And The Hoof-prints Vanish Away. The Roadside Flowers, Too Wet For The Bee, Expend Their Bloom In Vain. Come Over The Hills And Far With Me, And Be My Love In The Rain.

New Is A Word For Fools In Towns Who Think Style Upon Style In Dress And Thought At Last Must Get Somewhere.

Don't Be Agnostic - Be Something.

If We Couldn't Laugh We Would All Go Insane.