Autumn Arrives In The Early Morning.

Grown-up People Seem To Be Busy By Clockwork... They Run Their Unswerving Course From Object To Object, Directed By Some Mysterious Inner Needle That Points All The Time To What They Must Do Next. You Can Only Marvel At Such Misuse Of Time.

Don't You Understand That All Language Is Dead Currency? How They Keep On Playing Shop With It All The Same.

The Child Lives In The Book; But Just As Much The Book Lives In The Child.

Not Only Is There No Question Of Solitude, But In The Long Run We May Not Choose Our Company.

Who Is Ever Adequate? We All Create Situations Each Other Can't Live Up To, Then Break Our Hearts At Them Because They Don't.