Happiness Is A Perfume You Cannot Pour

The Maker Of A Sentence Launches Out Into The Infinite.

Often A Certain Abdication Of Prudence And Foresight Is An Element Of Success.

But I Go With My Friend To The Shore Of Our Little River, And With One Stroke Of The Paddle, I Leave The Village Politics And Personalities, Yes, And The World Of Villages And Personalities Behind, And Pass Into A Delicate Realm Of Sunset And Moonlight, Too Bright Almost For Spotted Man To Enter Without Novitiate And Probation.

Every Thought Is Public, Every Nook Is Wide; Thy Gossips Spread Each Whisper, And The Gods From Side To Side.

Children Are All Foreigners.