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I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus
With tigery stripes, and a face on it
Round read more
I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus
With tigery stripes, and a face on it
Round as the moon, to stare up.
I want to be looking at them when they come
Picking among the dumb minerals, the roots.
I see them already-the pale, star-distance faces.
Now they are nothing, they are not even babies.
I imagine them without fathers or mothers, like the first gods.
They will wonder if I was important.
A cookie store is a bad idea. Besides, the market research reports say America likes crispy cookies, not soft and read more
A cookie store is a bad idea. Besides, the market research reports say America likes crispy cookies, not soft and chewy cookies like you make. -- Response to Debbi Fields' idea of starting Mrs. Fields' Cookies.
Hurry it up you Hoosier bastard! I could hang a dozen men while you're screwing around.
Hurry it up you Hoosier bastard! I could hang a dozen men while you're screwing around.
Cheer up, children, I am all right.
Cheer up, children, I am all right.
Thomas Jefferson still survives.
Thomas Jefferson still survives.
To my friends: My work is done. Why wait?.
To my friends: My work is done. Why wait?.
Farewell, my children; remain always in the fear of the Lord. That temptation and tribulation which is to come is read more
Farewell, my children; remain always in the fear of the Lord. That temptation and tribulation which is to come is now at hand and happy shall they who persevere in the good they have begun. I hasten to go to our Lord, to whose grace I recommend you.
A little while and I will be gone from among you, when I cannot
tell. From no where we came, read more
A little while and I will be gone from among you, when I cannot
tell. From no where we came, into nowhere we go. What is life? Itis a flash of a firefly in the night. It is a breath of a buffalo inthe winter time. It is the little shadow that runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.
The opera isn't over till the fat lady sings. - "The Washington Post", June 13, 1978.
The opera isn't over till the fat lady sings. - "The Washington Post", June 13, 1978.
