And I Had By Now Become Used

The Pleasure Of The True Dreamer Does Not Lie In The Substance Of The Dream, But In This: That There Things Happen Without Any Interference From His Side, And Altogether Outside His Control.

I Do Not Know If You Remember The Tale Of The Girl Who Saves The Ship Under Mutiny By Sitting On The Powder Barrel With Her Lighted Torch... And All The Time Knowing That It Is Empty? This Has Seemed To Me A Charming Image Of The Women Of My Time. There They Were, Keeping The World In Order... By Sitting On The Mystery Of Life, And Knowing Themselves That There Was No Mystery.

Where The Storyteller Is Loyal, Eternally And Unswervingly Loyal To The Story, There, In The End, Silence Will Speak. Where The Story Has Been Betrayed, Silence Is But Emptiness. But We, The Faithful, When We Have Spoken Our Last Word, Will Hear The Voice Of Silence.

A Giraffe Is So Much A Lady That One Refrains From Thinking Of Her Legs, But Remembers Her As Floating Over The Plains In Long Garb, Draperies Of Morning Mist Her Mirage.

We Must Leave Our Mark On Life While We Have It In Our Power.