Eager For Bread And Love.

But There's No Joy At All, People Say "oh Well He's Drunk And Happy Let Him Sleep It Off"--the Poor Drunkard Is *crying*--he's Crying For His Mother And Father And Great Brother And Great Friend, He's Crying For Help. (p.111)

Sweet Life Continues In The Breeze, In The Golden Fields.

Oftentimes An Originator Of New Language Forms Is Called 'pretentious' By Jealous Talents. But It Ain’t Whatcha Write, It’s The Way Atcha Write It.

We Wandered In A Frenzy And A Dream (301).

I'm Going To Marry My Novels And Have Little Short Stories For Children.