Beauty Cannot Disguise Nor Music

And If Flying, Like A Glass-bottomed Bucket, Can Give You That Vision, That Seeing Eye, Which Peers Down On The Still World Below The Choppy Waves - It Will Always Remain Magic.

It Is The Striving After Perfection That Makes One An Artist. It Is The Sense That One Is Imperfect, Unfulfilled, Unfinished. One Attempts By A Superhuman Effort To Fill The Gap, To Leap Over It, To Finish It In Another Medium. And One Creates A Third And Separate Thing: 'adventure Rarely Reaches Its Predetermined End. Columbus Never Reached China. But He Discovered America.

There Comes A Moment When The Things One Has Written, Even A Traveler's Memories, Stand Up And Demand A Justification. They Require An Explanation. They Query, 'who Am I? What Is My Name? Why Am I Here?

For It Is Only Framed In Space That Beauty Blooms.

How Hard It Is To Have The Beautiful Interdependence Of Marriage And Yet Be Strong In Oneself Alone.