I Would Like To Explain That I

We Are All Such Accidents. We Do Not Make Up History And Culture. We Simply Appear, Not By Our Own Choice. We Make What We Can Of Our Condition With The Means Available. We Must Accept The Mixture As We Find It - The Impurity Of It, The Tragedy Of It, The Hope Of It.

At Moments I Dislike Having A Face, A Nose, Lips, Because He Has Them.

The Dream Of Man's Heart ... Is That Life May Complete In Significant Pattern.

She Was What We Used To Call A Suicide Blonde - Dyed By Her Own Hand.

And What About All The Good I Have In My Heart - Does It Mean Anything?