Art Is Wine And Experience Is The

The Wild Hunt Is Known In All Celtic Countries; It Is A Huntsman With A Pack Of Hounds Who Is Seen Or Heard To Rush Through The Country. Those Who See Him Are Doomed To Die. The Writer Heard The Wild Hunt Quite Distinctly One Night In Wales Several Years Ago, But Has Not Suffered Any Ill Effects From It As Yet.

I Am Quite A Wise Old Bird, But I Am No Desert Hermit Who Can Only Prophesy When His Guts Are Knotted With Hunger. I Am Deep In The Old Man’s Puzzle, Trying To Link The Wisdom Of The Body With The Wisdom Of The Spirit Until The Two Are One.

It Is Lost, Lovely Child, Somewhere In The Ragbag That I Laughingly Refer To As My Memory.

You're All Mad For Words. Words Are Just Farts From A Lot Of Fools Who Have Swallowed Too Many Books. Give Me Things!

Whoever Declares A Child To Be "delicate" Thereby Crowns And Anoints A Tyrant.