I have actual dreams of Bruce Springsteen calling me up on stage to wear a bandanna and play rhythm guitar next to Little Steven.

So we see Edward as a young man on the road and he meets a giant and he brings the giant to a circus where he meets a Miss Calloway. He sees the woman of his dreams and I am the only one who knows who she is.

Lonesome. Lonesome. I know what it means. Here all by my lonesome dreaming empty dreams. Weary. Weary at the close of day wondering if tomorrow brings me joy or sorrow.

How blessed are some people whose lives have no fears no dreads to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly and brings nothing but sweet dreams.

If there is a gay uniform the differences are in how each man coordinates the details: the brand and cut of the jeans the design of belts and boots the haircut the number and size of earrings.

And in a funny way each death is different and you mourn each death differently and each death brings back the death you mourned earlier and you get into a bit of a pile-up.

Giving is good but taking is bad and brings death.

As a well spent day brings happy sleep so life well used brings happy death.

It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of thought or action we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure on the world.

As a well-spent day brings happy sleep so a life well spent brings happy death.