God, He Thought, Her Eyes

It Was Anyway All A Long Time Ago; The World, We Know Now, Is As It Is And Not Different; If There Was Ever A Time When There Were Passages, Doors, The Borders Open And Many Crossing, That Time Is Not Now. The World Is Older Than It Was. Even The Weather Isn’t As We Remember It Clearly Once Being; Never Lately Does There Come A Summer Day Such As We Remember, Never Clouds As White As That, Never Grass As Odorous Or Shade As Deep And Full Of Promise As We Remember They Can Be, As Once Upon A Time They Were.

Stories Last Longer: But Only By Becoming Only Stories.

Seeing A Woman's Child Is Like Seeing A Woman Naked, In The Way It Changes How Her Face Looks To You, How Her Face Becomes Less The Whole Story.

Just As A Lamp Waved In Darkness Creates A Figure Of Light In The Air, Which Remains For As Long As The Lamp Repeats Its Motion Exactly, So The Universe Retains Its Shape By Repetition: The Universe Is Time's Body. And How Will We Perceive This Body? And How Operate On It?

'love Is A Myth,' Grandfather Trout Said. 'like Summer.' 'what?' 'in Winter,' Grandfather Trout Said, 'summer Is A Myth. A Report, A Rumor. Not To Be Believed In. Get It? Love Is A Myth. So Is Summer.'