Any Time You're Throwin Dirt

The Night Sky Lies So Sprent With Stars That There Is Scarcely Space Of Black At All And They Fall All Night In Bitter Arcs And It Is So That Their Numbers Are No Less.

The Point Is There Ain't No Point.

Usually, You Don't Know Where A Book Comes From ... It's Just There, Some Kind Of An Itch That You Can't Quite Scratch.

You Always Pay Too Much. Particularly For Promises. There Aint No Such Thing As A Bargain Promise.

By Day The Banished Sun Circles The Earth Like A Grieving Mother With A Lamp.