<i>O Lord!</i> he concluded, <i>forgive all these trespasses. Lead me not into Penn Station.</i> - Saul Bellow

Every twenty years or so the earth renews itself in young maidens. You know what I mean? Her cheeks had the perfect form that belongs to the young; her hair was kinky gold. Her teeth were white and posted on every approach. She was all sweet corn and milk. Blessings on her hips. Blessings on her thighs. Blessings on her soft little fingers which were somewhat covered by the cuffs of her uniform. Blessings on that rough gold. A wonderful little thing; her attitude was that of a pal or playmate, as is common with Midwestern young women

Myself is thus and so, and will continue thus and so. And why fight it? My balance comes from instability.

Fidelity is for phonographs