Gasping For Breath, The Body Still Battling

It's Redundant To Die In Los Angeles.

I Always Felt That Nobody Was Going To Understand Me, Going To Understand What I Felt About Things. I Guess That's Why I Started Writing. At Least On Paper I Could Put Down What I Thought.

[l]ove, Having No Geography, Knows No Boundaries.

So The Days, The Last Days, Blow About In A Memory, Hazy Autumnal, All Alike As Leaves: Until A Day Unlike Any Other I've Lived

With One Exception Everybody Who Has Ever Been Involved With Me Is Still A Great Friend Of Mine.