A Piano Might Fall On Your Head,

This Was What Happiness Felt Like - This Wondrous, Miraculous Alternative To Dread.

I Don't Get Nearly Enough Credit In Life For The Things I Manage Not To Say.

Somewhere Along The Line I'd Lost The Will Not To Eat.

I Didn't Seem To Have That Effect On Anyone But It Would Have Been A Waste For Both Of Us To Be Saints.

It's Not That He Lacked Poetry. But His Poetry Was Of The Body, Not The Mind. He Spoke It In The Way He Moved, The Way He Held A Hammer, Rowed A Boat, Built A Fire. I, On The Other Hand, Was Like A Brain In A Box, A Beating Heart In A Coal Scuttle.