Seagulls . . . Slim Yachts Of

I've Changed My Ways A Little, I Cannot Now Run With You In The Evenings Along The Shore, Except In A Kind Of Dream, And You, If You Dream A Moment, You See Me There.

Truly Men Hate The Truth; They'd Liefer Meet A Tiger On The Road.

We Might Remember ... Not To Fear Death; It Is The Only Way To Be Cleansed.

The World's In A Bad Way, My Man, And Bound To Be Worse Before It Mends; Better Lie Up In The Mountain Here Four Or Five Centuries, While The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean.

Oh Heavy Change. The World Deteriorates Like A Rotting Apple, Worms And A Skin.