But If You Tame Me, Then We

When One Wishes To Play The Wit, He Sometimes Wander A Little From The Truth.

It Is Always In The Midst, In The Epicenter, Of Your Troubles That You Find Serenity.

Real Love Begins Where Nothing Is Expected In Return.

The Seed Haunted By The Sun Never Fails To Find Its Way Between The Stones In The Ground. And The Pure Logician, If No Sun Draws Him Forth, Remains Entangled In His Logic.

So The Crew Fly On With No Thought That They Are In Motion. Like Night Over The Sea, They Are Very Far From The Earth, From Towns, From Trees. The Clock Ticks On. The Dials, The Radio Lamps, The Various Hands And Needles Go Though Their Invisible Alchemy. . . . And When The Hour Is At Hand The Pilot May Glue His Forehead To The Window With Perfect Assurance. Out Of Oblivion The Gold Has Been Smelted: There It Gleams In The Lights Of The Airport.