I have left Act I, for involution And Act II. There, mired in complexity I cannot write Act III.

'Broken things are powerful.' Things about to break are stronger still. The last shot from the brittle bow is truest.

The glove has been thrown to the ground, The last choice of weapons made. A book for one thought. A poem for one line. A line for one word.

As long as the differences and diversities of mankind exist, democracy must allow for compromise, for accommodation, and for the recognition of differences.

I am having a very difficult time. Things happen unexpectedly.

Things are going to go wrong, and I think we are false to life if we don't portray it. But there is also the hope that some lucky clown is going to come along …

Some say life, will beat you down. Break your heart, and steal your crown. So I started out, from God-knows where. I guess I'll know when I get there.