Old Men Ought To Be Explorers.

Stand On The Highest Pavement Of The Stair- Lean On A Garden Urn- Weave, Weave The Sunlight In Your Hair.

It Is Worth While Dying, To Find Out What Life Is.

At The Still Point Of The Turning World. Neither Flesh Nor Fleshless; Neither From Nor Towards; At The Still Point, There The Dance Is.

Art Never Improves, But... The Material Of Art Is Never Quite The Same.

Each Way Means Loneliness -- And Communion.