Sure Baby, Mañana. It Was Always Mañana.

Writing At Least Is A Silent Meditation Even Though You’re Going A Hundred Miles An Hour.

A Man Who Allows Wild Passion To Arise Within, Himself Burns His Heart, Then After Burning Adds The Wind That Thereto Which Ignites The Fire Again, Or Not, As The Case May Be.

All Day Long Wearing A Hat That Wasn't On My Head

Finding Nirvana Is Like Locating Silence.

Some Of My Most Neurotically Fierce Bitterness Is The Result Of Realizing How Untrue People Have Become.