He Is, I Think, Already Pondering A

The Child's Laughter Is Pure Until He First Laughs At A Clown.

I Had The Brief Notion That His Heart, Pressed Flat As A Flower, Crimson And Thin As Tissue Paper, Lay In This File. It Was A Very Thin One.

There's A Theory, One I Find Persuasive, That The Quest For Knowledge Is, At Bottom, The Search For The Answer To The Question: Where Was I Before I Was Born. In The Beginning Was What? Perhaps, In The Beginning, There Was A Curious Room, A Room Like This One, Crammed With Wonders; And Now The Room And All It Contains Are Forbidden You, Although It Was Made Just For You, Had Been Prepared For You Since Time Began, And You Will Spend All Your Life Trying To Remember It.

Love Is Desire Sustained By Unfulfilment.

What Would The Daughters Of The Rich Do With Themselves If The Poor Ceased To Exist?