Just As The Setting Sun Turned The

There Were Thousands And Thousands Of Forms Of Joy In The World, But That All Were Essentially One And The Same, Namely, The Joy Of Being Able To Love.

He Had Been Through A Good Deal In The Course Of The Great Quest — He Had Seen Beautiful Things And Horrible Things — But Up Until Now He Had Not Known That One And The Same Creature Can Be Both, That Beauty Can Be Terrifying.

My Will Can Control Anything That’s Empty.

Life Holds One Great But Quite Commonplace Mystery. Though Shared By Each Of Us And Known To All, Seldom Rates A Second Thought. That Mystery, Which Most Of Us Take For Granted And Never Think Twice About, Is Time.

Nothing Can Happen More Than Once, But Everything Must Happen One Day; Over Hill And Dale, Wood And Stream, My Dying Voice Will Blow Away. . .