Beyond The Indian Hamlet, Upon A Forlorn

Always, It Is The Poor People Who Pay. And Always, It Is The Poor People's Women Who Pay The Most.

The Soul Is A Verb." He Impales A Lit Candle On A Spike. "not A Noun.

Often I Think Boys Don’t Become Men. Boys Just Get Papier-mâchéd Inside A Man’s Mask. Sometimes You Can Tell The Boy Is Still In There.

Faith, The Least Exclusive Club On Earth, Has The Craftiest Doorman. Every Time I've Stepped Through Its Wide-open Doorway, I Find Myself Stepping Out On The Street Again.

But No, We Cross, Crisscross, And Recross Our Old Tracks Like Figure Skaters.