I Knew One Thing: As Soon As

Great Critics, Of Whom There Are Piteously Few, Build A Home For The Truth.

The Wet Air Was As Cold As The Ashes Of Love.

Under The Thinning Fog The Surf Curled And Creamed, Almost Without Sound, Like A Thought Trying To Form Inself On The Edge Of Consciousness.

The Character That Lasts Is An Ordinary Guy With Some Extraordinary Qualities.

Dames Lie About Anything - Just For Practice.