Beware of advice-even this.

I learned you can't trust the judgment of good friends.

There are men and women so lonely they believe God, too, is lonely.

And even now she beats her head against the bars in the same old way and wonders if there is a bigger place the railroads run to from Chicago where maybe there is romance and big things and real dreams that never go smash.

I'm an idealist. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on my way.

Hope is an echo, hope ties itself yonder, yonder.

God, let me remember all good losers.