Nothing Lasts. Not Even A Great Sorrow.

As Often As Not Our Whole Self...engages Itself In The Most Trivial Of Things, The Shape Of A Particular Hill, A Road In The Town In Which We Lived As Children, The Movement Of Wind In Grass. The Things We Shall Take With Us When We Die Will Nearly All Be Small Things.

A Joke Is A Joke Or The Image Of A Truth.

Nothing Lasts. Not Even A Great Sorrow.

When You Talk Of Revolution ... You Never Talk Of The Day After.

Invaders Always Destroy Libraries.