Here I Am, Where I Am Supposed

Who Tells A Finer Tale Than Any Of Us. Silence Does.

When You Have A Great And Difficult Task, Something Perhaps Almost Impossible, If You Only Work A Little At A Time, Every Day A Little, Suddenly The Work Will Finish Itself.

When We Are Young The Idea Of Death Or Failure Is Intolerable To Us; Even The Possibility Of Ridicule We Cannot Bear. But We Have Also An Unconquerable Faith In Our Own Stars, And In The Impossibility Of Anything Venturing To Go Against Us. As We Grow Old We Slowly Come To Believe That Everything Will Turn Out Badly For Us, And That Failure Is In The Nature Of Things, But Then We Do Not Much Mind What Happens To Us One Way Or The Other. In This Way A Balance Is Obtained.

Some People Have An Unconquerable Love Of Riddles. They May Have The Chance Of Listening To Plain Sense, Or To Such Wisdom That Explains Life; But No, They Must Go And Work Their Brains Over A Riddle, Just Because They Do Not Understand What It Means.

Here And There, In Some Older Houses, Old Faded Daguerreotypes Still Hang On The Walls... They Seem To Us To Be Very Simple... Compared With The Artistic And Skillful Portraits Made In Later Days... Here Was A Photograph That At One Time Had Been The Last Word, A Very Modern Portrait... Today It Is Just A Part Of Cultural History. The Small Yellowed Surface Has Acquired Depth, An Admonishing Perspective. We Hold In Our Hand A Symbol Of The Structure And Ideology Of An Epoch.