Memory Is The Happiness Of

I See All Of Them. All The Colors.

Keep A Green Tree In Your Heart And Perhaps The Singing Bird Will Come.

She Fell Asleep, And It Was A Sleep As Thin As The Night Clouds, Dotted With Dreams That Came And Went Like The Stars.

Time Goes On, And Your Life Is Still There, And You Have To Live It. After A While You Remember The Good Things More Often Than The Bad. Then, Gradually, The Empty Silent Parts Of You Fill Up With Sounds Of Talking And Laughter Again, And The Jagged Edges Of Sadness Are Softened By Memories.

We Live In Times That Are In Many Ways Ambiguous. Maybe That's Why Kids Want Precision In What They Read - They Don't Like That Moral Ambiguity.