Is It Not The Play Of The

The Flowers Are Ravined By Bees, The Fruit Blossoms Are Thrown To The Ground, The Wind The Rain Forces Everything.

What Does Not Change Is The Will To Change

I'm One Of The Cliches That Has Grown Up.

I'm Sorry, But I Was Born With A Towel On My Head.

Is It Not The Play Of The Mind We Are After? Is It Not That That Shows A Mind Is There At All?