Art is a form of catharsis emotional release, purging, cleansing, purifying.
You can't teach an old dogma new tricks.
Because your eyes are slant and slow, Because your hair is sweet to touch, My heart is high again; but oh, I doubt if this will get me much.
They sicken of the calm who know the storm.
He lies below, correct in cypress wood, And entertains the most exclusive worms.
This is me apologizing. I am a fool, a bird-brain, a liar and a horse-thief. I wouldn't touch a superlative again with an umbrella.