I Feel We Are All

It Is Nice To Think How One Can Be Recklessly Lost In A Daisy!

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.

No New Sect Ever Had Humor; No Disciples Either, Even The Disciples Of Christ.

The Web Of Marriage Is Made By Propinquity, In The Day To Day Living Side By Side, Looking Outward In The Same Direction. It Is Woven In Space And In Time Of The Substance Of Life Itself.