I Came Through Folk Music

The Hollywood Sirens Are Shrieking, While Down Some Search Lit Alley Runs Some Lost Belief.

I Get The Same Charge From Juxtaposition Of Colors As I Do From Juxtaposition Of Chords.

I Assume There Must Be Some Kind Of Genetic Thrust. My Two Grandmothers Were Very Different, But Both Of Them Were Frustrated Musicians.

Bows And Flows Of Angel Hair And Ice Cream Castles In The Air And Feather Canyons Everywhere, I've Looked At Clouds That Way.

Van Gogh Was Impulsive.