So Much Of Life, It Seems To

Since I Couldn't Actuate The Things That I Wanted To Do, The Only Weapon I Had Was To Say No.

We Suffer Pain, We Hang Tight To Hope, We Nurture Expectations, We Are Plagued Occasionally By Fears, We Are Haunted By Defeats And Unrealized Hopes . . . The Hoplessness Of Which I Speak Is Not Limited.

I Cannot Be Understood In Three Minutes.

My Father Was A Tomato Farmer. There Is The Phrase That Says He Or She Worked Their Fingers To The Bone, Well, That's My Dad. And He Was A Very Good Man.

I'm Going To Quit Writing.