I Don't Believe In Fate, As In,

If You've Had Good Gin On A Hot Day In Southern California With The People You Love, You Forget Nebraska. The Two Things Cannot Coexist. The Stronger, Better Of The Two Wins.

It Makes You Wonder. All The Brilliant Things We Might Have Done With Our Lives If Only We Suspected We Knew How.

I Know That There Are People Out There Who Believe We Should Get Rid Of All Guns.

He Believed That Life, True Life, Was Something That Was Stored In Music. True Life Was Kept Safe In The Lines Of Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin While You Went Out In The World And Met The Obligations Required Of You. Certainly He Knew (though Did Not Completely Understand) That Opera Wasn't For Everyone, But For Everyone He Hoped There Was Something. The Records He Cherished, The Rare Opportunities To See A Live Performance, Those Were The Marks By Which He Gauged His Ability To Love.

It Turns Out That The Distance From Head To Hand, From Wafting Butterfly To Entomological Specimen, Is Achieved Through Regular Practice. What Begins As Something Like A Dream Will In Fact Stay A Dream Forever Unless You Have The Tools And The Discipline To Bring It Out.