May Summer Last A Hundred Years.

It’s Daunting To Find The Language So Foreign, So Distant, But Also So Thrilling. One Is Absolved Of Responsibility When The Language Is Incomprehensible.

Travel Releases Spontaneity. You Become A Godlike Creature Full Or Choice, Free To Visit The Stately Pleasure Domes, Make Love In The Morning, Sketch A Bell Tower, Read A History Of Byzantium, Stare For One Hour At The Face Of Leonardo Da Vinci's 'madonna Dei Fusi.' You Open, As In Childhood, And--for A Time--receive This World. There's Visceral Aspect, Too--the Huntress Who Is Free. Free To Go, Free To Return Home Bringing Memories To Lay On The Hearth.

I’ll Always Marvel At The Liveliness Of Southern Speech-so Full Of Metaphor And Hyperbole, Quirks And Vividness.

Life Offers You A Thousand Chances... All You Have To Do Is Take One.

Sometimes The Valley Below Is Like A Bowl Filled Up With Fog. I Can See Hard Green Figs On Two Trees And Pears On A Tree Just Below Me. A Fine Crop Coming In. May Summer Last A Hundred Years.