"[I]f an American jumps out of an airplane, you can't sell him a parachute until after he hits the ground.
...I started listening to the wolves and the timber, wolves and the timber at night…
I wake in the field with the cold and the lonesome—the moon’s the only face I see
So long, so high….
...don't worry; i'll catch you
...
no need for reminding
you're still all that matters to me...
Excuse me, are you lost? Perhaps you would care to visit the site map