But Now It Was Spring Again, And

And Love Was Creation's Source,creation's Ruler; But All Love's Ways Are Strewn With Blossoms And Blood, Blossoms And Blood.

In Old Age We Are Like A Batch Of Letters That Someone Has Sent. We Are No Longer In The Past, We Have Arrived.

Do Not Forget, Some Give Little, And It Is Much For Them, Others Give All, And It Costs Them No Effort; Who Then Has Given Most?

I Was Conscious All The Time That I Was Following Mad Whims Without Being Able To Do Anything About It … . Despite My Alienation From Myself At That Moment, And Even Though I Was Nothing But A Battleground For Invisible Forces, I Was Aware Of Every Detail Of What Was Going On Around Me.

A Few Days Back Someone Sent Me Two Feathers. Two Bird's Feathers In A Sheet Of Note-paper With A Coronet, And Fastened With A Seal. Sent From A Place A Long Way Off; From One Who Need Not Have Sent Them Back At All. That Amused Me Too, Those Devilish Green Feathers.