The cowboy music twanged in the roadhouse and carried across the fields, all sadness. It was all right with me. I kissed my baby and we put out the lights.

And the story of love is a long sad tale ending in graves.

I feel guilty for being a member of the human race.

My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them.

the golden eternity is { }

No fear or shame in the dignity of your experience, language, and knowledge.

The unspeakable visions of the individual.