It Is Not The Visions But The

It Is A Sad Hardship And Slavery To People Who Live In Towns, That In Their Movements They Know Of One Dimension Only; They Walk Along The Line As If They Were Led On A String. The Transition From The Line To The Plane Into The Two Dimensions, When You Wander Across A Field Or Through A Wood, Is A Splendid Liberation To The Slaves, Like The French Revolution. But In The Air You Are Taken Into The Full Freedom Of The Three Dimensions; After Long Ages Of Exile And Dreams The Homesick Heart Throws Itself Into The Arms Of Space.

Then Martine Said: "so Yuo Will Be Poor Now All Your Life, Babette?" Poor?" Said Babette. She Smiled As If To Herself. "no, I Shall Never Be Poor. I Told You That I Am A Great Artist. A Great Artist, Mesdames, Is Never Poor.we Have Something, Mesdames, Of Which Other People Know Nothing.

I Beg Of You, You Good People Who Want To Hear Stories Told: Look At This Page And Recognize The Wisdom Of My Grandmother And Of All Old Story-telling Women!

I Think All Sorrows Can Be Borne If You Put Them Into A Story Or Tell A Story About Them.

I Have Before Seen Other Countries, In The Same Manner, Give Themselves To You When You Are About To Leave Them.