Here I Am, Where I Am Supposed

Where The Storyteller Is Loyal, Eternally And Unswervingly Loyal To The Story, There, In The End, Silence Will Speak. Where The Story Has Been Betrayed, Silence Is But Emptiness. But We, The Faithful, When We Have Spoken Our Last Word, Will Hear The Voice Of Silence.

I Don't Think... One Get A Flash Of Happiness Once, And Never Again; It Is There Deep Within You.

It Is Not The Visions But The Activity Which Makes You Happy, And The Joy And Glory Of The Flier Is The Flight Itself. . . Every Time I Have Gone Up In An Aeroplane And Looked Down Have Realized I Was Free Of The Ground, I Have Had The Consciousness Of A New Discovery. "i See:" I Have Thought, "this Was The Idea. And Now I Understand Everything."

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

The Cicada Sing An Endless Song In The Long Grass, Smells Run Along The Earth And Falling Stars Run Over The Sky, Like Tears Over A Cheek. You Are The Privileged Person To Whom Everything Is Taken. The Kings Of Tarshish Shall Bring Gifts.