Money: In Its Absence, We Are Coarse;

Neurosis Is No Worse Than A Bad Cold; You Ache All Over, And It's Made You A Mess, But You Won't Die From It.

Many Are Saved From Sin By Being So Inept At It.

Spring, Summer, And Fall Fill Us With Hope; Winter Alone Reminds Us Of The Human Condition.

A Woman Asks Little Of Love: Only That She Be Able To Feel Like A Heroine.

In Youth We Are Plagued By Desire; In Later Years, By The Desire To Feel Desire.