It Was Not Certain What Significance The

He Saw In Happiness The Seeds Of Independence, And In Independence The Seeds Of Revolt.

Life Is Too Fleet For Onomatopoeia.

Each Day I Live In A Glass Room Unless I Break It With The Thrusting Of My Senses And Pass Through The Splintered Walls To The Great Landscape.

And Now, My Poor Old Woman, Why Are You Crying So Bitterly? It Is Autumn. The Leaves Are Falling From The Trees Like Burning Tears- The Wind Howls. Why Must You Mimic Them?

Lingering Is So Very Lonely When One Lingers All Alone.