Home Is Where You Feel

Great Fury, Like Great Whisky, Requires Long Fermentation.

I Hated Hemingway. I Liked Faulkner But He Was A Bore.

I'm Very Scared, Buster. Yes, At Last. Because It Could Go On Forever. Not Knowing What's Yours Until You've Thrown It Away.

Aprils Have Never Meant Much To Me, Autumns Seem That Season Of Beginning, Spring.

I've Got Something Inside Of Me, Peasantlike And Stubborn, And I'm In It Till The End Of The Race.