I Will Not Let Thee Go, Except

And Were My Faith So Strong That It Could Move Mountains, That Is The Mountain That I Would Make Come To Me.

The Cure For Anything Is Salt Water: Sweat, Tears Or The Sea.

Where A Pack Of Monkeys Had Traveled Over The Road, The Smell Of Them Lingered For A Long Time In The Air, A Dry And Stale, Mousy Smell.

There Is A Particular Hapiness In Giving A Man Whom You Like Very Much, Good Food That You Have Cooked Yourself.

I Had Seen A Herd Of Buffalo, One Hundred And Twenty-nine Of Them, Come Out Of The Morning Mist Under A Copper Sky, One By One, As If The Dark And Massive, Iron-like Animals With The Mighty Horizontally Swung Horns Were Not Approaching, But Were Being Created Before My Eyes And Sent Out As They Were Finished.