My Heart Hath Followed All My Days

Fishing Is A Delusion Entirely Surrounded By Liars In Old Clothes.

For All Of The Creeds Are False, And All Of The Creeds Are True; And Low At The Shrines Where My Brothers Bow, There Will I Bow Too; For No Form Of A God, And No Fashion Man Has Made In His Desperate Passion, But Is Worthy Some Worship Of Mine; Not Too Hot With A Gross Belief, Nor Yet Too Cold With Pride, I Will Bow Me Down Where My Brothers Bow, Humble, But Open Eyed.

An Idea Isn't Responsible For The People Who Believe In It.

I Get Up In The Morning With An Idea For A Three-volume Novel And By Nightfall It's A Paragraph In My Column.

Yes, He's Got All Them Different Kinds Of Thoroughbred Blood In Him, And He's Got Other Kinds You Ain't Mentioned And That You Ain't Slick Enough To See.