We Look Too Much To Museums. The

The World Is Just As Concrete, Ornery, Vile, And Sublimely Wonderful As Before, Only Now I Better Understand My Relation To It And It To Me.

I Suddenly Recall The Arpeggios Of Laughter Lilting Across The Tender, Springtime Grass-gay-welling, Far-floating, Fluent, Spontaneous, A Bell-like Feminine Fluting, Then Suppressed; As Though Snuffed Swiftly And Irrevocably Beneath The Quiet Solemnity Of The Vespered Air Now Vibrant With Somber Chapel Bells.

America Is Woven Of Many Strands; I Would Recognize Them And Let It So Remain. It's 'winner Take Nothing' That Is The Great Truth Of Our Country Or Of Any Country. Life Is To Be Lived, Not Controlled; And Humanity Is Won By Continuing To Play In Face Of Certain Defeat. Our Fate Is To Become One, And Yet Many - This In Not Prophecy, But Description.

Without The Possibility Of Action, All Knowledge Comes To One Labeled 'file And Forget.'

Light Confirms My Reality, Gives Birth To My Form...without Light I Am Not Only Invisible But Formless As Well; And To Be Unaware Of One's Form Is To Live A Death...the Truth Is The Light And Light Is The Truth.