The Artist Lives In An

There Is Something Beautiful About All Scars Of Whatever Nature. A Scar Means The Hurt Is Over, The Wound Is Closed And Healed, Done With.

That Was The Only Decision There Was Once Upon A Time: What To Do With The Night.

I Believe Some People Are Just Too Damn Smart To Write Fiction.

I Am Not Perfect." It Came Out In A Rush Of Breath. "see I Thought I Was. Thank God I Ain't. See A Perfect Thing Ain't Got A Chance. The World Kills It, Everything Perfect. (listen To Him!) Now See A Thing That Ain't Perfect, It Grows Like A Weed. Yeah, Like A Weed! A Thing That Ain't Perfect Gets Hand Clapping, Smiles, Takes The Wire An Easy Winner. But The World Ain't Set Up Right If You Perfect. You Lible To Run Right Into A Brick Wall. Looks Like Suicide. All The Weeds Say, Looka There, It Suicide!

Survival Is Triumph Enough.