Beauty . . . Cannot Be Interpreted.

Corn And Bean People, I'm Afraid, Have Extremely Specialized Minds.

Never Forget: We Are Alive Within Mysteries.

The Chance You Had Is The Life You've Got. You Can Make Complaints About What People, Including You, Make Of Their Lives After They Have Got Them, And About What People Make Of Other People's Lives, ...but You Mustn't Wish For Another Life. You Mustn't Want To Be Somebody Else.

New Grief, When It Came, You Could Feel Filling The Air. It Took Up All The Room There Was. The Place Itself, The Whole Place, Became A Reminder Of The Absence Of The Hurt Or The Dead Or The Missing One. I Don't Believe That Grief Passes Away. It Has Its Time And Place Forever. More Time Is Added To It; It Becomes A Story Within A Story. But Grief And Griever Alike Endure.

We Are Alive Within Mystery, By Miracle... We Have More Than We Can Know. We Know More Than We Can Say.