Look, Let Me Put It This Way:

I Like The Way Mahler Wandered About In His Music And Still Retained His Passion. He Must Have Looked Like An Earthquake Walking Down The Street.

It Was Sad, It Was Sad, It Was Sad. When Betty Came Back We Didn't Sing Or Laugh, Or Even Argue. We Sat Drinking In The Dark, Smoking Cigarettes, And When We Went To Sleep, I Didn't Put My Feet On Her Body Or She On Mine Like We Used To. We Slept Without Touching. We Had Both Been Robbed.

Each Man's Hell Is In A Different Place: Mine Is Just Up And Behind My Ruined Face.

Our Bones Like Stems Into The Sky Will Forever Cry Victory

I Could Read The Great Books But The Great Books Don't Interest Me.