Time Is A Sandpile We Run Our

Slang Is A Language That Rolls Up Its Sleeves, Spits On Its Hands And Goes To Work.

I Am Still Studying Verbs And The Mystery Of How They Connect Nouns. I Am More Suspicious Of Adjectives Than At Any Other Time In All My Born Days.

What If Someone Gave A War & Nobody Came? / Life Would Ring The Bells Of Ecstasy And Forever Be Itself Again.

In The Average Newspaper There Is Not A Complete Suppression Of Stories That The Sacred Cows Don't Want Printed. But Rather What Happens Is That The Stories Get Printed With Stresses, Colorations And Emphasis That Favor The Sacred Cows.

A Man May Be Born, But In Order To Be Born He Must First Die, And In Order To Die He Must First Awake.