With patient inattention hear him prate.

Civil limitation daunts His utterance never; the nymphs blush, not he.

Full lasting is the song, though he, The singer, passes.

Darker grows the valley, more and more forgetting: So were it with me if forgetting could be willed. Tell the grassy hollow that holds the bubbling well-spring…

Why don't you fold it five ways and put it where the moon don't shine! (in response to Norman Mailer's 'Why don't you just read the next question on your card …

Tell him to go to hell.

Where do they teach you to talk like this? In some Panama City sailor wanna hump-hump bar, or is it getaway day and your last shot at his whiskey? Go sell craz…