I Think We Will Have A Boy

You Woke In The Morning With The Weight Of Doom On Your Head. You Lay With Eyes Shut Wondering Why You Dreaded The Day; Was It A Debt, Was It A Lost Love? -and Then You Remembered The Nightmare....this Was No Time For Beauty, For Love, Or Private Future....there Was No Future; Everyone Waited, Marked Time, Waited. For What?

The Artist Who Really Loves People Loves Them So Well The Way They Are He Sees No Need To Disguise Their Characteristics-he Loves Them Whole, Without Retouching. Yet The Word Used For This Unqualifying Affection Is 'cynicism'.

I Realize More And More How Instinctively Pessimistic I Am Of All Human Kindness -- Since I Am Always So Bowled Over By It -- And Am Never Surprised By Injustice, Malice Or Personal Attack.

The Human Comedy Is Always Tragic, But Since Its Ingredients Are Always The Same - Dupe, Fox, Straight, Like Burlesque Skits - The Repetition Through The Ages Is Comedy.

There Is Really One City For Everyone Just As There Is One Major Love.