Time Was A Face On The Water,

He Didn’t Know If That Was Really True Or Not, But He Discovered Something Which Was Tremendously Liberating: He Didn’t Care. He Was Very Tired Of Thinking And Thinking And Still Not Knowing. He Was Also Tired Of Being Frightened, Like A Man Who Has Entered A Cave On A Lark And Now Begins To Suspect He Is Lost. Stop Thinking About It, Then. That’s The Solution.

It Is The Tale, Not He Who Tells It.

Our Memories Have Voices, Too. Often Sad Ones That Clamor Like Raised Arms In The Dark.

Long Days And Pleasant Nights

Above, The Stars Shone Hard And Bright, Sparks Struck Off The Dark Skin Of The Universe.