...rapid Motion Through Space Elates One.

The Mouth Can Be Better Engaged Than With A Cylinder Of Rank Weed.

Broken Heart. A Pump After All, Pumping Thousands Of Gallons Of Blood Every Day. One Fine Day It Gets Bunged Up And There You Are... Old Rusty Pumps: Damn The Thing Else. The Resurrection And The Life. Once You Are Dead You Are Dead.

And If He Had Judged Her Harshly? If Her Life Were A Simple Rosary Of Hours, Her Life Simple And Strange As A Bird's Life, Gay In The Morning, Restless All Day, Tired At Sundown? Her Heart Simple And Willful As A Bird's Heart?

Deal With Him, Hemingway!

He Drew Forth A Phrase From His Treasure And Spoke It Softly To Himself: A Day Of Dappled Seaborne Clouds.