The Treasures Of The Earth Were Movement,

One Is Attracted To Beauty. Beauty Is The Coordination Of Things, In Such A Way, That It Is What Attracts You. It's Almost Self-defining.

I Had A Period In My Life, Maybe A Decade Or So, In Which I Was Involved In That Kind Of Thing, Associating With The Elite Of Various Segments Of Society. It Always Made Me Extremely Uncomfortable. I Couldn't Wait To Get Out Of There And Change My Clothes. The Good Part About That Was Getting Home And Changing Into My Regular Clothes. Taking Off The Suit And The Tie, Taking Off The Tight Shoes, And Just Relaxing. Being Away From That Stuff. It Was Stimulating, But I Never Liked It. I Always Felt It Was A Terrible, Terrible Burden.

The Treasures Of The Earth Were Movement, Courage, Laughter And Love.

And If You Were A Spirit, And Time Did Not Bind You, And Patience And Love Were All You Knew, Then There You Would Wait For Someone To Return, And The Story To Unfold.

He Knew Very Well That Love Could Be Like The Most Beautiful Singing, That It Could Make Death Inconsequential, That It Existed In Forms So Pure And Strong That It Was Capable Of Reordering The Universe. He Knew This, And That He Lacked It, And Yet As He Stood In The Courtyard Of The Palazzo Venezia, Watching Diplomats File Quietly Out The Gate, He Was Content, For He Suspected That To Command The Profoundest Love Might In The End Be Far Less Beautiful A Thing Than To Suffer Its Absence.