Love, In Short Is The

You Are The Most Dangerous Kind Of Female The World Can Ever Know. You Carry The Seeds For Your Own Destruction And The Destruction Of Everyone Who Loves You. And A Great Many Will Love You For Your Beautiful Face For Your Seductive Body; But You Will Fail Them All Because You Will Believe They All Fail You First. You Are An Idealist Of The Worst Kind - The Romantic Idealist. Born To Destroy And Self Destruct.

Angel, Saint, Devil's Spawn, Good Or Evil, You've Got Me Pinned To The Wall And Labeled As Yours Until The Day I Die. And If You Die First, Then It Won't Be Long Before I Follow.

Love, When It Came And Knocked On My Door, Was Going To Be Enough. And That Unknown Author Who'd Written That If You Had Fame, It Was Not Enough, And If You Had Wealth As Well, It Was Still Not Enough, And If You Had Fame, Wealth, And Also Love ... Still It Was Not Enough - Boy, Did I Feel Sorry For Him.

Patience. I Colored Patience Gray, Hung Over With Black Clouds. I Colored Hope Yellow, Just Like The Sun We Could See For A Few Short Morning Hours. Too Soon The Sun Rose High In The Sky & Disappeared From View, Leaving Us Bereft And Staring At Blue.

At The End Of The Rainbow Waited The Pot Of Gold. But Rainbows Were Made Of Faint And Fragile Gossamer-and Gold Weighed A Ton-and Since The World Began, Gold Was The Reason To Do Most Anything.