Men Tighten The Knot Of Confusion Into

At The Still Point, There The Dance Is.

There's No Vocabulary For Love Within A Family, Love That's Lived In But Not Looked At, Love Within The Light Of Which All Else Is Seen, The Love Within Which All Other Love Finds Speech. This Love Is Silent.

In Our Rhythm Of Earthly Life We Tire Of Light. We Are Glad When The Day Ends, When The Play Ends; And Ecstasy Is Too Much Pain.

Webster Was Much Possessed By Death And Saw The Skull Beneath The Skin.

I Am Glad You Have A Cat, But I Do Not Believe It Is So Remarkable A Cat As My Cat.