Go Right On And Listen As Thou

How Come I Never Meet Any Nice Girls?

I Wept Not — So To Stone I Grew Within.

At Grief So Deep The Tongue Must Wag In Vain; The Language Of Our Sense And Memory Lacks The Vocabulary Of Such Pain.

They Had Their Faces Twisted Toward Their Haunches And Found It Necessary To Walk Backward, Because They Could Not See Ahead Of Them. ...and Since He Wanted So To See Ahead, He Looks Behind And Walks A Backward Path.

Like The Lark That Soars In The Air, First Singing, Then Silent, Content With The Last Sweetness That Satiates It, Such Seemed To Me That Image, The Imprint Of The Eternal Pleasure.