I Feel A Whole Country Growing Inside

Ravens Bring Things To People. We're Like That. It's Our Nature. We Don't Like It.

All Lives Are Composed Of Two Basic Elements," The Squirrel Said, "purpose And Poetry. By Being Ourselves, Squirrel And Raven, We Fulfill The First Requirement, You In Flight And I In My Tree. But There Is Poetry In The Meanest Of Lives, And If We Leave It Unsought We Leave Ourselves Unrealized. A Life Without Food, Without Shelter, Without Love, A Life Lived In The Rain—this Is Nothing Beside A Life Without Poetry.

Her Face Was A Stranger’s Face, Which Was As It Should Be. Love Each Other From The Day We Are Born To The Day We Die, We Are Still Strangers Every Minute, And Nobody Should Forget That, Even Though We Have To.

The Tune Was Wailing And Mournful, Almost Flagrantly So, And The Total Effect Was Of A Heartbroken Piccolo Being Parted Forever From Its Bagpipe Lover.

I Fear It, For Her Sake. It Would Mean That She Too Is A Wanderer Now, And That Is A Fate For Human Beings, Not For Unicorns. But I Hope, Of Course I Hope.