Without The Gift Of Flowers And The

Great Minds Have Always Seen It. That Is Why Man Has Survived His Journey This Long. When We Fail To Wish Any Longer To Be Otherwise Than What We Are, We Will Have Ceased To Evolve. Evolution Has To Be Lived Forward. I Say This As One Who Has Stood Above The Bones Of Much That Has Vanished, And At Midnight Has Examined His Own Face.

To Have Dragons One Must Have Change; That Is The First Principle Of Dragon Lore.

A Man Who Has Once Looked With The Archaeological Eye Will Never See Quite Normally. He Will Be Wounded By What Other Men Call Trifles. It Is Possible To Refine The Sense Of Time Until An Old Shoe In The Bunch Grass Or A Pile Of Nineteenth Century Beer Bottles In An Abandoned Mining Town Tolls In One's Head Like A Hall Clock.

If It Should Turn Out That We Have Mishandled Our Own Lives As Several Civilizations Before Us Have Done, It Seems A Pity That We Should Involve The Violet And The Tree Frog In Our Departure.

We Are Rag Dolls Made Out Of Many Ages And Skins, Changelings Who Have Slept In Wood Nests, And Hissed In The Uncouth Guise Of Waddling Amphibians. We Have Played Such Roles For Infinitely Longer Ages Than We Have Been Human. Our Identity Is A Dream. We Are Process, Not Reality.