Writers And Artists Build By Hand Little

It's Stupid, I Know, But I Care. All The Things That Meant So Much When We Were Young. Under The Blankets Late At Night, Listening To Long-distance Radio. All Those Things Lost Now Or Broken. Can You Remember? Can You Remember That Feeling? Perhaps I Ought To Go To A Doctor.

If Our Shallow, Self-critical Culture Sometimes Seems To Lack A Sense Of The Numinous Or Spiritual It's Only In The Same Way A Fish Lacks A Sense Of The Ocean.

And When It's All Done, When There's No One Left You'll Come Back For Me. And Tell Me Who I Am And Why I Have To Do What I Do. And Explain 'eternity.' You'll Come Back

A Cannon Fires Only Once But Words Detonate Across Centuries

A Bullet In The Right Place Can Change The World.