Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends.

The bridge will only take you halfway there, to those mysterious lands you long to see. Through gypsy camps and swirling Arab fair, and moonlit woods where unicorns run free. So come and walk awhile with me and share the twisting trails and wondrous worlds I've known. But this bridge will only take you halfway there. The last few steps you have to take alone.

You'd better get your laugh while you're making your point, or you won't be doing it very long.

If there is a book you want to read but isn`t written yet,write it.

I was hoping that perhaps I could roll with you..." "You cannot roll with me," said the Big O, "but perhaps you can roll by yourself.

If you are a dreamer come in

It's amazing the difference A bit of sky can make.