When Good Befalls A Man He Calls

A Few Days Back Someone Sent Me Two Feathers. Two Bird's Feathers In A Sheet Of Note-paper With A Coronet, And Fastened With A Seal. Sent From A Place A Long Way Off; From One Who Need Not Have Sent Them Back At All. That Amused Me Too, Those Devilish Green Feathers.

Love Is Every Bit As Violent And Dangerous As Murder.

I Can't Even Make Up A Rhyme About An Umbrella, Let Alone Death And Life And Eternal Peace.

Rather Than Admire The Mediocre Great Men Over Whom Passersby Nudge Each Other In Awe, I Venerate The Young, Unknown Geniuses Who Die In Their Teens, Their Souls Shattered - Delicate, Phosphorescent Glowworms That One Must See To Know They Really Did Exist.

Today Riches And Honours Have Been Lavished On Me, But One Gift Has Been Lacking, The Most Important One Of All, The Only One That Matters, The Gift Of Youth.