I have fallen in love with you, God. Take care of us all, one way or the other.
It was a rainy night. It was the myth of the rainy night.
Pain or love or danger makes you real again.
Holy flowers floating in the air, were all these tired faces in the dawn of Jazz America.
They have worries, they're counting the miles, they're thinking about where to sleep tonight, how much money for gas, the weather, how they'll get there - and all the time they'll get there anyway, you see.
and nobody knows what’s going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old