Play Fair. Don't Hit People. Say You're

It Is The Chair In Honor Of All Those Who, However Competently, Embrace The Impossible. Sit In That Chair Someday.

My Own Movement Of Thought Is Not Meant To Be A Straight Point-to-point, Linear Line Of March, But Horizontal Exploration From One Area Of Interest To Another. There Is No Ultimate Destination - No Finish Line To Cross, No Final Conclusion To Be Reached. It's The Way I Feel About Dancing - You Move Around A Lot, Not To Get Somewhere, But To Be Somewhere In Time.

It's Just This: That There Are Places We All Come From-deep-rooty-common Places- That Makes Us Who We Are. And We Disdain Them Or Treat Them Lightly At Our Peril. We Turn Our Backs On Them At The Risk Of Self-contempt. There Is A Sense In Which We Need To Go Home Again-and Can Go Home Again. Not To Recover Home, No. But To Sanctify Memory.

I Love This Child. Red-haired - Patient And Gentle Like Her Mother - Fey And Funny Like Her Father. When She Giggles I Can Hear Him When He And I Were Young. I Am Part Of This Child. It May Be Only Because We Share Genes And That Therefore Smell Familiar To Each Other.... It May Be That A Part Of Me Lives In Her In Some Important Way.... But For Now, It's Jelly Beans And 'old Macdonald' That Unite Us.

Life Is Lumpy. And A Lump In The Oatmeal, A Lump In The Throat, And A Lump In A Breast Are Not The Same Lump. One Should Learn The Difference.