If I Can't Write It Would Be

Your Culture Has Become Sophisticated, Like A Computer, Or A Drug That You Take For A Headache. You Can Use It, But You Cannot Explain How It Works. Certainly Not To Girls Who Stack Up Their Firewood Against The Side Of The House.

Wouldn't That Be Funny, If The Oil Rebels Were Playing U2 In Their Jungle Camps, And The Government Soldiers Were Playing U2 In Their Trucks. I Think Everyone Was Killing Everyone Else And Listening To The Same Music... That Is A Good Trick About This World, Sarah. No One Likes Each Other, But Everyone Likes U2.

There Was No Quick Grief For Andrew Because He Had Been So Slowly Lost. First From My Heart, Then From My Mind, And Only Finally From My Life.

We Cannot Choose Where To Start And Stop. Our Stories Are The Tellers Of Us.

What Is An Adventure? That Depends On Where You Are Starting From. Little Girls In Your Country, They Hide In The Gap Between The Washing Machine And The Refrigerator And They Make Believe They Are In The Jungle, With Green Snakes And Monkeys All Around Them. Me And My Sister, We Used To Hide In A Gap In The Jungle, With Green Snakes And Monkeys All Around Us, And Make Believe That We Had A Washing Machine And A Refrigerator. You Live In A World Of Machines And You Dream Off Things With Beating Hearts. We Dream Of Machines, Because We See Where Beating Hearts Have Left Us.