I Knew That To Find And To

Later - When Things Happened That They Could Never Have Imagined - She Wrote Him A Letter That Said: When Will You Learn That There Isn't A Word For Everything

Then He Almost But Didn't Say The Two Sentence He'd Been Meaning To Say For Years: Part Of Me Is Made Of Glass, And Also, I Love You

Franz Kafka Is Dead. He Died In A Tree From Which He Wouldn't Come Down. "come Down!" They Cried To Him. "come Down! Come Down!" Silence Filled The Night, And The Night Filled The Silence, While They Waited For Kafka To Speak. "i Can't," He Finally Said, With A Note Of Wistfulness. "why?" They Cried. Stars Spilled Across The Black Sky. "because Then You'll Stop Asking For Me."

Even Now, All Possible Feelings Do Not Yet Exist, There Are Still Those That Lie Beyond Our Capacity And Our Imagination. From Time To Time, When A Piece Of Music No One Has Ever Written Or A Painting No One Has Ever Painted, Or Something Else Impossible To Predict, Fathom Or Yet Describe Takes Place, A New Feeling Enters The World. And Then, For The Millionth Time In The History Of Feeling, The Heart Surges And Absorbs The Impact.

At First Babel Longed For The Use Of Just Two Words: Yes And No. But He Knew That Just To Utter A Single Word Would Be To Destroy The Delicate Fluency Of Silence.