It's Only Through Form That We Can

Everything Is Perfect On The Street Again, The World Is Permeated With Roses Of Happiness All The Time, But None Of Us Know It. The Happiness Consists In Realizing That It Is All A Great Strange Dream.

The Bus Roared On. I Was Going Home In October. Everybody Goes Home In October.

It Was My Dream That Screwed Up, The Stupid Hearthside Idea That It Would Be Wonderful To Follow One Great Red Line Across America Instead Of Trying Various Roads And Routes.

I Felt Like Lying Down By The Side Of The Trail And Remembering It All

We Wandered In A Frenzy And A Dream (301).