...to Be Paid For One's Joy Is

Every Sovereign Country Has The Right To Control Its Borders, And Should. The Idea That Anyone Would Sneak Over Our Borders Without Proper Documentation To Me Is Absolutely Abhorrent.

We Launch Our Souls From The Cannons Of Art And Discipline, And On Any One Night, Hovering Over The Chimney Tops Of Europe, Halfway To The Stars, There Are Armies Of Brightly Spinning Spirits That Have Risen Like Fireworks, Tethered To The Souls Of Those Men And Women Who, By Reflection, Mortification, And Devotion, Effortlessly Outdazzle Kings.

My Father Ran London Films. He Made Films Like 'the Red Shoes,' 'the Third Man.' And He Had Had A Long Career In The Film Business, Which Was Bifurcated With A Career In Intelligence. He Had To Deal With Gangsters, And Sometimes He Would Take Me With Him. Also, I Went To School With Their Children.

I Saw How Greatly He Suffered The Requirement Of Being Clever. It Separated Him From His Soul, And It Didn't Get Him Anything Other Than A Living

He Moved Like A Dancer, Which Is Not Surprising; A Horse Is A Beautiful Animal, But It Is Perhaps Most Remarkable Because It Moves As If It Always Hears Music.