Desolation, desolation, I owe so much to desolation.
Cats yawn because they realize that there's nothing to do.
Ah, it was a fine night, a warm night, a wine-drinking night, a moony night, and a night to hug your girl and talk and spit and be heavengoing.
Swinging on delicate hinges the autumn leaf almost off the stem.
Ray, what you got to do is go climb a mountain.
At night I closed my eyes and saw my bones threading the mud of my grave.