Nobody Has The Time To Sit Down

You Travel Here And You Travel There, Trying To Get Out From Under The Cloud, And Nothing Works, And Then One Day You Realize You've Been Carrying The Weather Around With You.

Sad Words Are Just Another Beauty. A Sad Story Means, This Storyteller Is Alive. The Next Thing You Know Something Fine Will Happen To Her, Something Marvelous, And Then She Will Turn Around And Smile.

In My World Death Will Come Chasing. In Your World It Will Start Whispering In Your Ear To Destroy Yourself. I Know This Because It Started Whispering To Me When I Was In The Detention Center.

Our Stories Are The Tellers Of Us.

My Paternal Grandmother Drove Ambulances During The Regional Blitz, In Birmingham.