“Outside . . . the street . . . the city . . . the darkness! O how the night was with me, taunting the rolls of thought that cuddled my brain. My memory like an old piano roll . . . four hot hands at the keys . . . wobbly fingers in my mind . . . my whole life ragtime in broken shoes . . . tiny mallets striking the strings of my soul . . . Ah, Tim, I tell you there's a tune left in the old box yet.” SoulBeatDoyle Book:Happiness Bastard Source: Happiness Bastard