Will You Look Into My Eyes And

Dead Men Tell No Tales, Mary.

From The Very First, I Knew That It Would Be So...i Smiled To Myself, And Said, "that -- And None Other.

I Had Build Up False Pictures In My Mind And Sat Before Them. I Had Never Had The Courage To Demand The Truth.

The Trouble Is, Walking In Venice Becomes Compulsive Once You Start. Just Over The Next Bridge, You Say, And Then The Next One Beckons.

Writers Should Be Read, But Neither Seen Nor Heard.