There Is Something About Safari Life That

Man And Woman Are Two Locked Caskets, Of Which Each Contains The Key To The Other.

It Is Not A Bad Thing In A Tale That You Understand Only Half Of It.

The Air Was Cold To The Lungs, The Long Grass Dripping Wet, And The Herbs On It Gave Out Their Spiced Astringent Scent. In A Little While On All Sides The Cicada Would Begin To Sing. The Grass Was Me , And The Air, The Distant Invisible Mountains Were Me, The Tired Oxen Were Me. I Breathed With The Slight Night-wind In The Thorn Trees.

Coffee, According To The Women Of Denmark, Is To The Body What The Word Of The Lord Is To The Soul.

God Made The World, My Lord, And Looked At It, And Saw That It Was Good. Yes. But What If The World Had Looked Back At Him, To See Whether He Was Good Or Not?