The Hint Half Guessed, The Gift Half

People To Whom Nothing Has Ever Happened Cannot Understand The Unimportance Of Events.

There Are Flood And Drought Over The Eyes And In The Mouth, Dead Water And Dead Sand Contending For The Upper Hand. The Parched Eviscerate Soil Gapes At The Vanity Of Toil, Laughs Without Mirth. This Is The Death Of The Earth.

Again I Must Remind You That A Dog's A Dog-a Cat's A Cat.

I Am Moved By Fancies That Are Curled, Around These Images And Cling, The Notion Of Some Infinitely Gentle, Infinitely Suffering Thing.

There Will Be Time, There Will Be Time To Prepare A Face To Meet The Faces That You Meet.