I Believe That For His Escape He

And When Your Sorrow Is Comforted (time Soothes All Sorrows) You Will Be Content That You Have Known Me. You Will Always Be My Friend. You Will Want To Laugh With Me. And You Will Sometimes Open Your Window, So, For That Pleasure . . . And Your Friends Will Be Properly Astonished To See You Laughing As You Look Up At The Sky! Then You Will Say To Them, 'yes, The Stars Always Make Me Laugh!' And They Will Think You Are Crazy. It Will Be A Very Shabby Trick That I Shall Have Played On You.

What Sets Men At Variance Is But The Treachery Of Language, For Always They Desire The Same Things.

Nobody Grasped You By The Shoulder While There Was Still Time. Now The Clay Of Which You Were Shaped Has Dried And Hardened, And Naught In You Will Ever Awaken The Sleeping Musician, The Poet, The Asronomer That Possibly Inhabited You In The Beginning.

He Who Would Travel Happy Must Travel Lite.

Straight Ahead You Can't Go Very Far.