It Bewildered Ig, The Idea That A

You Loved Me As Hard As You Knew How. I'd Give Anything To Go Back And Love You Better.

... People Made The Imaginary Real All The Time: Taking The Music They Heard In Their Head And Recording It, Seeing A House In Their Imagination And Building It. Fantasy Was Always Only A Reality Waiting To Be Switched On.

It Was Like Wondering How Evil Had Come Into The World Or What Happens To A Person After He Dies: An Interesting Philosophical Exercise, But Also Curiously Pointless, Since Evil And Death Happened, Regardless Of The Why And The How And What-it-meant.

A Pamphlet, No Matter How Good, Is Never Read More Than Once, But A Song Is Learned By Heart And Repeated Over And Over. And I Maintain That If A Person Can Put A Few Common Sense Facts Into A Song And Dress Them Up In A Cloak Of Humor, He Will Succeed In Reaching A Great Number Of Workers Who Are Too Unintelligent Or Too Indifferent To Read.

What A Blessed If Painful Thing, This Business Of Being Alive.