My Imagination Makes Me Human And Makes

The Place They Go Towards Is A Place Even Less Imaginable To Us Than The City Of Happiness. I Cannot Describe It At All. It Is Possible It Does Not Exist. But They Seem To Know Where They Are Going, The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas.

The Artist Deals With What Cannot Be Said In Words.

Compare The Torrent And The Glacier. Both Get Where They Are Going.

In The Tale, In The Telling, We Are All One Blood.

Statesmen Remember Things Selectively.