Being crazy, for the rest of us, is a form of sanity.

I've always felt that distant train whistles heard in the dead of night are the universe's way of letting us know the best days are neither ahead nor behind us...They're happening right now, cradled in the palms of our hands. But that doesn't change the fact that the whiskey, weed, and romance eventually runs out and the night will soon turn to day.

The garden was full of sorrowSongbirds and unusual winds whistled a rhymeClouds caused to appear and cast down darknessFor this was the first day the sun didn't shine.