When I Was Very Young Every Grownup

The Horns Came Riding In Like The Rainbow Masts Of Silver Ships.

But What I Thought, And What I Still Think, And Always Will, Is That She Saw Me. Nobody Else Has Ever Seen Me — Me, Jenny Gluckstein — Like That. Not My Parents, Not Julian, Not Even Meena. Love Is One Thing — Recognition Is Something Else.

Only To A Magician Is The World Forever Fluid, Infinitely Mutable And Eternally New. Only He Knows The Secret Of Change, Only He Knows Truly That All Things Are Crouched In Eagerness To Become Something Else, And It Is From This Universal Tension That He Draws His Power.

This Creature Is The Pooka. Pay No Mind To The Shape He Wears, For He’s None Of His Own, And No Soul Either. Ware Him Ever, Trust Him Never, But When The Wind’s Right He Has His Uses. Never Forget That You Will Never Know Him. The Pooka’s Mystery Even To The Pooka.

Love Was Generous Precisely Because It Could Never Be Immortal.