A Man's Sorrow Runs Uphill;

Sleep Demands Of Us A Guilty Immunity.

God, Children Know Something They Can't Tell; They Like Red Riding Hood And The Wolf In Bed!

“god,” She Cried, “what Is Love? Man Seeking His Own Head? The Human Head, So Rented By Misery That Even The Teeth Weigh! She Couldn't Tell Me The Truth Because She Had Never Planned It; Her Life Was A Continual Accident, And How Can You Be Prepared For That? Everything We Can't Bear In This World, Some Day We Find In One Person, And Love It All At Once.”

The Truth Is How You Say It, And To Be 'one's Self' Is The Most Shocking Custom Of All.

You Beat The Liver Out Of A Goose To Get A Pâté; You Pound The Muscles Of A Man's Cardia To Get A Philosopher.