Everybody’s Got A Mean Side. Just Don’t

We Can’t Always Tell The Whole Story About Ourselves.

When He Was Dry, He Believed It Was Alcohol He Needed, But When He Had A Few Drinks In Him, He Knew It Was Something Else, Possibly A Woman; And When He Had It All -- Cash, Booze, And A Wife -- He Couldn't Be Distracted From The Great Emptiness That Was Always Falling Through Him And Never Hit The Ground.

Everybody’s Got A Mean Side. Just Don’t Feed It Till It Grows.

Down The Hall Came The Wife. She Was Glorious, Burning. She Didn't Know Yet That Her Husband Was Dead. We Knew. That's What Gave Her Such Power Over Us. The Doctor Took Her Into A Room With A Desk At The End Of The Hall, And From Under The Closed Door A Slab Of Brilliance Radiated As If, By Some Stupendous Process, Diamonds Were Being Incinerated In There. What A Pair Of Lungs! She Shrieked As I Imagined An Eagle Would Shriek. It Felt Wonderful To Be Alive To Hear It! I've Gone Looking For That Feeling Everywhere.

And Therefore I Looked Down Into The Great Pity Of A Person’s Life On This Earth. I Don’t Mean That We All End Up Dead, That’s Not The Great Pity. I Mean That He Couldn’t Tell Me What He Was Dreaming, And I Couldn’t Tell Him What Was Real.