In Daily Life Language Is Important, If

How The Holy And The Profane Mix In The Light Of Day And At The End Of Life Is Sometimes The Most Beautiful Thing In This World And A Compassionate Entry Into The Next. After Failure And Defeat, A Concentration Upon Certain Beauties, Though Forever Lost And Unretrievable, Can Lift The Wounded Past Roundedness And The Dying Past Dying, Protecting Them With An Image, Still And Bright, That Will Ride With Them On Their Long Ride, Never To Fade And Never To Retreat.

As It Somehow Always Manages Before The Winter Solstice, But Never After, The Early Darkness Was Cheerful And Promising, Even For Those Who Had Nothing.

One Is Attracted To Beauty. Beauty Is The Coordination Of Things, In Such A Way, That It Is What Attracts You. It's Almost Self-defining.

The Human Race Is Intoxicated With Narrow Victories, For Life Is A String Of Them Like Pearls That Hit The Floor When The Rope Breaks, And Roll Away In Perfection And Anarchy.

Words Were All He Knew; They Possessed And Overwhelmed Him, As If They Were A Thousand White Cats With Whom He Shared A One-room Apartment.