Words Are All We Have.

No, I Regret Nothing, All I Regret Is Having Been Born, Dying Is Such A Long Tiresome Business I Always Found.

That Passed The Time. It Would Have Passed In Any Case. Yes, But Not So Rapidly.

There's Man All Over For You, Blaming On His Boots The Fault Of His Feet.

Over, Over, There Is A Soft Place In My Heart For All That Is Over, No, For The Being Over, Words Have Been My Only Loves, Not Many.

The End Of A Life Is Always Vivifying.