I'm thinking of remaking 'Psycho' again. Doing a third remake. The idea this time is to really change it - we're talking about doing a punk rocker setting.
Content with poverty, my soul I arm; And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.
For secrets are edged tools, And must be kept from children and from fools.
Errors like straws upon the surface flow, Who would search for pearls to be grateful for often must dive below.
The love of liberty with life is given, And life itself the inferior gift of Heaven.
Luxurious kings are to their people lost, They live like drones, upon the public cost.
Desire of power, on earth a vicious weed, Yet, sprung from high, is of celestial seed: In God 'tisglory; and when men aspire, 'Tis but a spark too much of heavenly fire.
When you have to apologize, it is well, I suppose, to get the thing over quickly.
Chinese architecture has a complete organic structure; it contains both sensibility and purpose.
When you care more if someone else lives than you do about yourself- is that what [love is]?
So why am I depressed? That's the million-dollar question, baby, the Tootsie Roll question; not even the owl knows the answer to that one. I don't know either. All I know is the chronology.