The Tree Is A Slow, Enduring Force

A Rock Pile Ceases To Be A Rock Pile The Moment A Single Man Contemplates It, Bearing Within Him The Image Of A Cathedral.

No One Has Tamed You And You Haven't Tamed Anyone.your'e The Way My Fox Was. He Was Just A Fox Like A Hundred Thousand Others. But I've Made Him My Friend, And Now He's The Only Fox In The World.

The Magic Of The Craft Has Opened For Me A World In Which I Shall Confront, Within Two Hours, The Black Dragons And The Crowned Crests Of A Coma Of Blue Lightnings, And When Night Has Fallen I, Delivered, Shall Read My Course In The Starts.

Sitting In The Flickering Light Of The Candles On This Kerchief Of Sand, On This Village Square, We Waited In The Night. We Were Waiting For The Rescuing Dawn - Or For The Moors. Something, I Know Not What, Lent This Night A Savor Of Christmas. We Told Stories, We Joked, We Sang Songs. In The Air There Was That Slight Fever That Reigns Over A Gaily Prepared Feast. And Yet We Were Infinitely Poor. Wind, Sand, And Stars. The Austerity Of Trappists. But On This Badly Lighted Cloth, A Handful Of Men Who Possessed Nothing In The World But Their Memories Were Sharing Invisible Riches.

Life Has Meaning Only If One Barters It Day By Day For Something Other Than Itself.