I Cannot Sustain Hate For

Radio Is Truly The Theater Of The Mind. The Listener Constructs The Sets, Colors Them From His Own Palette, And Sculpts And Costumes The Characters Who Perform In Them.

With Two Leftover Husbands To Account For, My Wicked Soul Has Just About Shriveled And Died

I Am Rich From The Bequests Other Gifted People Have Seen Fit To Leave To Me.

The Great People I've Met Always Have Time For The Niceties.

I'd Never Been In Play Long Enough For The Flowers To Die In The Dressing Room