Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove Dance me to the end of love

As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armour themselves against wonder.

Even without the mushroom cloud still I would have hated Listen I would have done the same things even if there were no death I will not be held like a drunkard under the cold tap of facts I refuse the universal alibi

You go your way I'll go your way too

Any startling piece of work has a subversive element in it, a delicious element often. Subversion is only disagreeable when it manifests in political or social activity.

I always felt I was scraping the bottom of the barrel trying to get a song together.

In dreams the truth is learned that all good works are done in the absence of a caress.