I Need To Write Down My Observations.

Christmas Always Rustled. It Rustled Every Time, Mysteriously, With Silver And Gold Paper, Tissue Paper And A Rich Abundance Of Shiny Paper, Decorating And Hiding Everything And Giving A Feeling Of Reckless Extravagance.

One Must Use The Night.

Smell Is Important. It Reminds A Person Of All The Things He's Been Through; It Is A Sheath Of Memories And Security.

I Need To Write Down My Observations. Even The Tiniest Ones; They're The Most Important.

One Summer Morning At Sunrise A Long Time Ago I Met A Little Girl With A Book Under Her Arm. I Asked Her Why She Was Out So Early And She Answered That There Were Too Many Books And Far Too Little Time. And There She Was Absolutely Right.