Billy Here Has Been Talkin'

The Raw Materials Of Reality Without The Glue Of Time Are Materials Adrift And Reality Is As Meaningless As The Balsa Parts Of A Model Airplane Scattered To The Wind.

High High In The Hills , High In A Pine Tree Bed. She's Tracing The Wind With That Old Hand, Counting The Clouds With That Old Chant, Three Geese In A Flock One Flew East One Flew West One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

Ritual Is Necessary For Us To Know Anything.

I've Enjoyed Being A Famous Writer-except That Every Once In A While You Have To Write Something.

It Is Bad To Suppress Laughter. It Goes Back Down To Your Hips. Man, When You Lose Your Laugh You Lose Your Footing.