You'll Have Pie In The Sky When

She Breathed Deeply Of The Scent Of Decaying Fiction, Disintegrating History, And Forgotten Verse, And She Observed For The First Time That A Room Full Of Books Smelled Like Dessert: A Sweet Snack Made Of Figs, Vanilla, Glue, And Cleverness.

Gold Don't Come Off. What's Good Stays Good No Matter How Much Of A Beating It Takes.

I Mean, When The World Comes For Your Children, With The Knives Out, It's Your Job To Stand In The Way.

That Was One Thing You Found Out When You Were Stoned, Or Wasted, Or Feverish: That The World Was Always Turning And That Only A Healthy Mind Could Block Out The Sickening Whirl Of It.

Don't Believe Everything You Hear Today