One Has Not Only An Ability To

Never Be Afraid To Love, Not Even When There's A Chance You're Not Being Loved In Return.

If Love Eats The Donut, Does Time Eat The Hole?

Those Who Shun The Whimsy Of Things Will Experience Rigor Mortis Before Death.

I Want To Travel On A Train That Smells Like Snowflakes. I Want To Sip In Cafes That Smell Like Comets. Under The Pressure Of My Step, I Want The Streets To Emit The Precise Odor Of A Diamond Necklace. I Want The Newspapers I Read To Smell Like The Violins Left In Pawnshops By Weeping Hobos On Christmas Eve. I Want To Carry Luggage That Reeks Of The Neurons In Einstein's Brain. I Want A City's Gases To Smell Like The Golden Belly Hairs Of The Gods. And When I Gaze At A Televised Picture Of The Moon, I Want To Detect, From A Distance Of 239,000 Miles, The Aroma Of Fresh Mozzarella.

You Are What You Think You Eat.