I Think It Is Always

Events, Once Happened, Lose Reality, Alter With A Glance, A Storm, A Night. In Time, The Past Never Happened. But Who Could Know? Who Could Know That The Past Is Not As Solid As This Instant.

You Say, "something Important Really Happened Here. I Really Had Hold Of Something I Was Visited By The Muse." And That's Enough To Make You Continue The Months And Years To Finish The Whole Book.

Writers Are A Loosely Knit Community - Community Is An Overstated Word. Writers Don't See Each Other Very Much.

And At The Place Where Time Stands Still, One Sees Lovers Kissing In The Shadows Of Buildings, In A Frozen Embrace That Will Never Let Go. The Loved One Will Never Take His Arms From Where They Are Now, Will Never Give Back The Bracelet Of Memories, Will Never Journey Afar From His Lover, Will Never Place Himself In Danger Of Self-sacrifice, Will Never Fail To Show His Love, Will Never Become Jealous, Will Never Fall In Love With Someone Else, Will Never Lose The Passion Of This Instant Of Time.

When The First Mechanical Clocks Were Invented, Marking Off Time In Crisp, Regular Intervals, It Must Have Surprised People To Discover That Time Flowed Outside Their Own Mental And Physiological Processes. Body Time Flows At Its Own Variable Rate, Oblivious To The Most Precise Hydrogen Master Clocks In The Laboratory. In Fact, The Human Body Contains Its Own Exquisite Time-pieces, All With Their Separate Rhythms. There Are The Alpha Waves In The Brain; Another Clock Is The Heart. And All The While Tick The Mysterious, Ruthless Clocks That Regulate Aging.