Regret Is An Appalling Waste Of Time.

I Am Poor - Obscure - Just Eighteen Years Of Age - With A Rapacious Appetite For Everything And Principles As Light As My Purse.

Why! Why! Why Is The Middle-class So Stodgy - So Utterly Without A Sense Of Humor?

What I Feel For You Can’t Be Conveyed In Phrasal Combinations; It Either Screams Out Loud Or Stays Painfully Silent But I Promise — It Beats Words. It Beats Worlds. I Promise

I Love The Night. I Love To Feel The Tide Of Darkness Rising, Slowly And Slowly Washing, Turning Over And Over, Lifting, Floating, All That Lies Strewn Upon The Dark Beach, All That Lies Hid In Rocky Hollows.

I Want, By Understanding Myself, To Understand Others. I Want To Be All That I Am Capable Of Becoming.... This All Sounds Very Strenuous And Serious. But Now That I Have Wrestled With It, It's No Longer So. I Feel Happy- Deep Down. All Is Well.