You Can Parody And Make Fun Of

There Are Two Futures, The Future Of Desire And The Future Of Fate, And Man's Reason Has Never Learnt To Separate Them.

I Would I Could Stand On A Busy Corner, Hat In Hand, And Beg People To Throw Me All Their Wasted Hours.

Who Will Free Me From Hurry, Flurry, The Feeling Of A Crowd Pushing Behind Me, Of Being Hustled And Crushed? How Can I Regain Even For A Minute The Feeling Of Ample Leisure I Had During My Early, My Creative Years? Then I Seldom Felt Fussed, Or Hurried. There Was Time For Work, For Play, For Love, The Confidence That If A Task Was Not Done At The Appointed Time, I Easily Could Fit It Into Another Hour. I Used To Take Leisure For Granted, As I Did Time Itself.

It Was A Morning In Early Summer. A Silver Haze Shimmered And Trembled Over The Lime Trees. The Air Was Laden With Their Fragrance. The Temperature Was Like A Caress. I Remember - I Need Not Recall - That I Climbed Up A Tree Stump And Felt Suddenly Immersed In Itness. I Did Not Call It By That Name. I Had No Need For Words. It And I Were One.

From Childhood On I Have Had The Dream Of Life Lived As A Sacrament... The Dream Implied Taking Life Ritually As Something Holy.