It’s A Rare Man Who Is Taken

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.

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

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.

And What Good Is It To Me That You're Here Now? Where Where You Twenty Years Ago, Ten Years Ago? How Dare You, How Dare You Come To Me Now, When I Am This?

I Always Say Perseverance Is Nine-tenths Of Any Art — Not That It's Much Help To Be Nine-tenths An Artist, Of Course.