My Sense Of Proprietorship Has

Deprivation Is The Mother Of Poetry.

How Bitter Were The Prozac Pills Of The Last Few Hundred Mornings

I’ll Be Marching Through The Morning, Marching Through The Night, Moving 'cross The Borders Of My Secret Life.

Avoid The Flourish. Do Not Be Afraid To Be Weak. Do Not Be Ashamed To Be Tired. You Look Good When You’re Tired. You Look Like You Could Go On Forever. Now Come Into My Arms. You Are The Image Of My Beauty .

Just To Get Serious About This Thing, You Know. One Has To Be Compassionate. It's True That People Are Up Against Things, Economically And Emotionally.