I Wonder," He Said, "whether The Stars

Life Always Bursts The Boundaries Of Formulas.

Surely A Man Needs A Closed Place Wherein He May Strike Root And, Like The Seed, Become. But Also He Needs The Great Milky Way Above Him And The Vast Sea Spaces, Though Neither Stars Nor Ocean Serve His Daily Needs.

It Is Always In The Midst, In The Epicenter, Of Your Troubles That You Find Serenity.

But Games Always Cover Something Deep And Intense, Else There Would Be No Excitement In Them, No Pleasure, No Power To Stir Us.

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.