Why Go To A Machine When You

The Answer To All Writing, To Any Career For That Matter, Is Love.

Beer's Intellectual. What A Shame So Many Idiots Drink It.

Facts Are Not Interesting To Me.

Are You Happy?" She [clarisse] Said. "am I What?" He [montag] Cried. But She Was Gone- Running In The Moonlight. Her Front Door Shut Gently.

Somewhere In Him, A Shadow Turned Mournfully Over. You Had To Run With A Night Like This So The Sadness Could Not Hurt