In Wickedness Of Pride Is

Inspiration, Move Me Brightly, Light The Song With Sense And Color, Hold Away Despair

When It Seems Like The Night Will Last Forever, And There's Nothing Left To Do But Count The Years, When The Strings Of My Harp To Sever, And Stones Fall From My Eyes Instead Of Tears... I Will Walk Alone By The Black Muddy River, And Dream Me A Dream Of My Own, I Will Walk Alone By The Black Muddy River, And Sing Me A Song Of My Own.

I Feel I've Got 10 Books In Me.

Every Song Falls Short Of The Glory Of What A Song Could Be. That's Why The Urge Is There To Start Again And Yet Again. Often It's The Fault Of Rhyme. I've Discovered A Hundred Times That There Just Aren't Enough Rhymes To Say What I Wanted To Say, So I Said Something Else Instead. Sometimes It Was A Better Thing, But The Thing I Meant To Say Went Unsaid. So There's An Opening For Another Song.

Don't Waste The Breath To Save Your Face, When You Have Done Your Best, And Even More Is Asked Of You, Let Fate Decide The Rest.