I Can Only Wait For The Final

If Someone Were To Tell Me I Had Twenty Years Left, And Ask Me How I'd Like To Spend Them, I'd Reply 'give Me Two Hours A Day Of Activity, And I'll Take The Other Twenty-two In Dreams.'

Tobacco And Alcohol, Delicious Fathers Of Abiding Friendships And Fertile Reveries.

Frankly, Despite My Horror Of The Press, I'd Love To Rise From The Grave Every Ten Years Or So And Go Buy A Few Newspapers.

Our Memory Is Our Coherence, Our Reason, Our Feeling, Even Our Action. Without It, We Are Nothing.

Like The Majority Of Deaf People, I Don't Like Blind People Much.