I Suppose Like Others I Have Come

I Could Read The Great Books But The Great Books Don't Interest Me.

I Tell You Such Fine Music Waits In The Shadows Of Hell.

Bad Writing's Like Bad Women: There's Just Not Much You Can Do About It

There Was Something About That City, Though It Didn't Let Me Feel Guilty That I Had No Feeling For The Things So Many Others Needed. It Let Me Alone. Sitting Up In My Bed The Lights Out, Hearing The Outside Sounds, Lifting My Cheap Bottle Of Wine, Letting The Warmth Of The Grape Enter Me As I Heard The Rats Moving About The Room, I Preferred Them To Humans. Being Lost, Being Crazy Maybe Is Not So Bad If You Can Be That Way Undisturbed. New Orleans Gave Me That. Nobody Ever Called My Name.

It’s When You Hide Things That You Choke On Them.