...you Can Hate A Place

I Never Felt At Home. I Stuck Outin New York City, Especially In Greenwich Village, Down Among The Cranks And The Misfits And The One-lungers And The Has-beens And The Might've Beens And The Would-bes And The Never-wills And The God-knows-whats, I Have Always Felt At Home.

My Dad Was A Cotton Buyer And Cotton Buyers Always Considered Themselves Superior To The Rest Of The World.

All Information Of A Spiritual Or Personal Nature Will Have To Come From Our Father, Who Art In Heaven, And I Think He's In New York Right Now.

He Had A Habit Of Remarking To Bartenders That He Didn't See Any Sense In Mixing Whiskey With Water Since The Whiskey Was Already Wet.

...you Can Hate A Place With All Your Heart And Soul And Still Be Homesick For It.