The Past Is Obdurate. It

The Quiet, Singing Voice Of The Rose. The Song That Promised All Might Be Well, All Might Be Well, That All Manner Of Things Might Be Well.

I've Spent My Whole Life Doing Some Things Because They Were Logical And Not Doing Others Because They Were Not. I've Seen What Happens When People Act On Intuition, Or For Illogical Reasons. Sometimes The Results Are Ludicrous And Embarrassing; More Often They Are Simply Horrible. But Here I Am, Just The Same, Behaving Like A Crackbrained Crystal Gazer.

Did-a-chick? Dum-a-chum? Dad-a-cham? Ded-a-chek?

I've Spread My Legs In The Backseat In A Creative Sense Quite A Few Times.

The Thought Process Can Never Be Complete Without Articulation.