I looked at my old friend, The Typewriter.

"Somehow they'd rather be kissed To the strains of Chopin or Liszt--"

The more we succeed the more we fail.

When I am gone, who'll write on you and say the same things better?

Plenty of them, Philip.

You never put the bar up where even you could jump.

Who ever did?

It was damned near eight o'clock.

Opus 21 Descriptive Music for the Lower Kinsey Epoch of the Atomic Age, a Concerto for a One-man Band, Six Arias for Soap Operas, Fugues, Anthems & Barrelhouse · 第 68 / 346 题