I Am Who I Am And I

To Forget A Friend Is Sad. Not Every One Has Had A Friend. And If I Forget Him, I May Become Like The Grown−ups Who Are No Longer Interested In Anything But Figures.

A Single Event Can Awaken Within Us A Stranger Totally Unknown To Us.

Night, The Beloved. Night, When Words Fade And Things Come Alive. When The Destructive Analysis Of Day Is Done, And All That Is Truly Important Becomes Whole And Sound Again. When Man Reassembles His Fragmentary Self And Grows With The Calm Of A Tree.

I Know A Planet Where There Is A Certain Red-faced Gentleman. He Has Never Smelled A Flower. He Has Never Looked At A Star. He Has Never Loved Any One. He Has Never Done Anything In His Life But Add Up Figures. And All Day He Says Over And Over, Just Like You: 'i Am Busy With Matters Of Consequence!' And That Makes Him Swell Up With Pride. But He Is Not A Man - He Is A Mushroom!

Loneliness Is Bred Of A Mind That Has Grown Earth-bound.