I feel I’ve got 10 books in me.

At the top of the cycle you write policies for everybody, no matter how bad, and at the bottom you cancel everybody, no matter how good. It’s a manic-depressive cycle.

There are times when you get hit upon, Try hard but you cannot give. Other times you’d gladly part, With what you need to live.

Such a long, long time to be gone and a short time to be there.

But never give your love, my friend, Unto a foolish heart.

Outside major darkness where the circle is complete there’s no fear that lovers born will ever fail to meet.

I won’t slave for beggar’s pay, likewise gold and jewels, but I would slave to learn the way, to sink your ship of fools.

When I was just a little young boy, Papa said Son, you’ll never get far, I’ll tell you the reason if you want to know, ’cause child of mine, there isn’t really very far to go.

Sometimes we live no particular way but our own.

Let my inspiration flow, in token lines suggesting rhythm, that will not forsake me, till my tale is told and done.