The sensual mysticism of entire vertical being.

The artist is not a man who describes, but a man who feels.

Next to of course god America i / love you land of the pilgrims and so forth oh

Tomorrow is our permanent address.

...losing through you what seemed myself, i find selves unimaginably mine; beyond sorrow's own joys and hopings very fears yours is the light by which my spirit's born: yours is the darkness of my soul's return... you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.

The only man, woman, or child who wrote a simple declarative sentence with seven grammatical errors "is dead."

Like the burlesque comedian, I am abnormally fond of that precision which creates movement.