From Shakespeare’s Macbeth: Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,To the last syllable of recorded time;And all our yesterdays
Think of a room with No center, only corners. Anonymous space; Corridors endless, Everything angled. Airplane Terminal. Here is Where I’ve spent the last Four
He always wanted Something worth dying for. But He was alive, in Spite of himself. He Wondered if the French Foreign Legion would take him.
Certain am I you Will be happier without Me dragging you down.
Brothers three were we. Alvin, Simon, Theodore, Singing harmonies. Simon I, doctors Said I crawled too much, there was Too much pressure on My brain.
Must I pretend theProstitute for you to doMe honor? Your first Born, vile villain,Fell victim to his vices.Second, Chester cheat, Slid his sword from mySex,