I'd love to have the whole place swimming in roses
Ulysses He ... saw the dark tangled curls of his bush floating, floating hair of the stream around the limp father of thousands, a languid flatong flower.
Though their life was modest, they believed in eating well.
A man's errors are his portals of discovery.
The object of the artist is the creation of the beautiful. What the beautiful is is another question.
Though people may read more into Ulysses than I ever intended, who is to say that they are wrong: do any of us know what we are creating?Which of us can control our scribblings? They are the script of one's personality like your voice or your walk