Here's To The Few Who

It’s A Pity If Someone… Has To Console Himself For The Wreck Of His Days With The Notion That Somehow His Voice, His Work Embodies The Deepest, Most Obscure, Freshest, Rawest Oyster Of Reality In The Unfathomable Refrigerator Of The Heart’s Ocean, But I Am Such A One, And There You Have It.

It's Hard To Hold The Hand Of Anyone Who Is Reaching For The Sky Just To Surrender

All Men Will Be Sailors Then Until The Sea Shall Free Them

One Is Given To Self-dramatization From Time To Time. I Intend To Live Forever.

The Art Of Longing's Over, And It's Never Coming Back.