Youth Doesn't Need Friends -- It Only

We Grew Up Founding Our Dreams On The Infinite Promise Of American Advertising.

I Don’t Suppose I Really Know You Very Well - But I Know You Smell Like The Delicious Damp Grass That Grows Near Old Walls And That Your Hands Are Beautiful Opening Out Of Your Sleeves And That The Back Of Your Head Is A Mossy Sheltered Cave When There Is Trouble In The Wind And That My Cheek Just Fits The Depression In Your Shoulder.

Maybe Other People's Ideas Of Us Are Truer Than Our Own.

I Wish I Could Write A Beautiful Book To Break Those Hearts That Are Soon To Cease To Exist: A Book Of Faith And Small Neat Worlds And Of People Who Live By The Philosophies Of Popular Songs.

Nobody Has Ever Measured, Not Even Poets, How Much The Heart Can Hold.