When Faced With Something I Fear, I

To See The Beauty Of The World Is To Put Your Hands On Lines That Run Uninterrupted Through Life And Through Death. Touching Them Is An Act Of Hope, For Perhaps Someone On The Other Side, If There Is Another Side, Is Touching Them, Too.

Mozart And Neil Diamond May Have Begun With The Same Idea, But That A Work Of Art Is More Than An Idea Is Confirmed By The Difference Between The 'soave Sia Il Vento' And 'kentucky Woman.' We Have Different Words For 'art' And 'idea' Because They Are Two Different Things.

They Were Dancing Around The Fountain, Arm In Arm, In An Old Dutch Dance, Their Cheeks Touching, Their Hands Entwined. They Had No Music; They Hummed. And There Was No Reason For Them To Be Dancing That Peter Lake Could See, Except That It Was An Exceptionally Beautiful Night.

All Rivers Run Full To The Sea; Those Who Are Apart Are Brought Together; The Lost Ones Are Redeemed; The Dead Come Back To Life; The Perfectly Blue Days That Have Begun And Ended In Golden Dimness Continue, Immobile And Accessible; And, When All Is Perceived In Such A Way As To Obviate Time, Justice Becomes Apparent Not As Something That Will Be, But Something That Is.

As Long As You Have Life And Breath, Believe. Believe For Those Who Cannot. Believe Even If You Have Stopped Believing. Believe For The Sake Of The Dead, For Love, To Keep Your Heart Beating, Believe. Never Give Up, Never Despair, Let No Mystery Confound You Into The Conclusion That Mystery Cannot Be Yours.