No Worse Fate Can Befall A Young

But Now The World Breaks In On Us, The World Is Shocked, The World Looks Upon Our Idyll As Madness. The World Maintains That No Rational Man Or Woman Would Have Chosen This Way Of Life - Therefore, It Is Madness. Alone I Confront Them And Tell Them That Nothing Could Be Saner Or Truer! What Do People Really Know About Life? We Fall In Line, Follow The Pattern Established By Our Mentors. Everything Is Based On Assumptions; Even Time, Space, Motion, Matter Are Nothing But Supposition. The World Has No New Knowledge To Impart; It Merely Accepts What Is There.

Do Not Forget, Some Give Little, And It Is Much For Them, Others Give All, And It Costs Them No Effort; Who Then Has Given Most?

The Writer Must Be Able To Revel And Roll In The Abundance Of Words; He Must Know Not Only The Direct But Also The Secret Power Of A Word. There Are Overtones And Undertones To A Word, And Lateral Echoes, Too.

A Few Days Back Someone Sent Me Two Feathers. Two Bird's Feathers In A Sheet Of Note-paper With A Coronet, And Fastened With A Seal. Sent From A Place A Long Way Off; From One Who Need Not Have Sent Them Back At All. That Amused Me Too, Those Devilish Green Feathers.

I Can't Even Make Up A Rhyme About An Umbrella, Let Alone Death And Life And Eternal Peace.