The Ruder Lecturers Are, And The Louder

I Find You In All Small And Lovely Things; In The Little Fishes Like Flames In The Green Water, In The Furred And Stupid Softness Of Bumble-bees Fat As Laughter, In All The Chiming Radiance Of Warmth And Light And Scent In The Summer Garden.

When A Person That One Loves Is In The World And Alive And Well, And Pleased To Be In The World, Then To Miss Them Is Only A New Flavor, A Salt Sharpness In Experience. It Is When The Beloved Is Unhappy Or Maimed Or Troubled That One Misses With Pain.

The Crown Of Life Is Neither Happiness Nor Annihilation; It Is Understanding.

You Are Quite, Quite Wrong If You Think That ... I Find Your Happiness Painful. What Matters Is That Happiness - The Golden Day - Should Exist In The World, Not Much To Whom It Comes. For All Of Us It Is So Transitory A Thing, How Could One Not Draw Joy From Its Arrival?

All Adventuring Is Rash, And All Innovations Dangerous. But Not Nearly So Dangerous As Stagnation And Dry Rot. From Grooves, Cliques, Clichés And Resignation - Good Lord Deliver Us!