And I Had By Now

The Cicada Sing An Endless Song In The Long Grass, Smells Run Along The Earth And Falling Stars Run Over The Sky, Like Tears Over A Cheek. You Are The Privileged Person To Whom Everything Is Taken. The Kings Of Tarshish Shall Bring Gifts.

Do You Know...what I Think Is A Great Pity? It Is This: That We Have All Become Such Skeptics That We Hardly Believe What Our Pious Grandmothers Told Us.

I Beg Of You, You Good People Who Want To Hear Stories Told: Look At This Page And Recognize The Wisdom Of My Grandmother And Of All Old Story-telling Women!

We Must Leave Our Mark On Life While We Have It In Our Power.

I Will Not Let Thee Go, Except Thou Bless Me.