You Know, I’ve Spent My

Truth Is A Demure Lady, Much Too Ladylike To Knock You On Your Head And Drag You To Her Cave. She Is There, But People Must Want Her, And Seek Her Out.

Some Of My Instincts Are Reprehensible.

Why Does Baloney Avoid The Grinder?

Industry Is The Enemy Of Melancholy

I Get Satisfaction Of Three Kinds. One Is Creating Something, One Is Being Paid For It And One Is The Feeling That I Haven't Just Been Sitting On My Ass All Afternoon.