It Is Not The Visions

It Is A Sad Hardship And Slavery To People Who Live In Towns, That In Their Movements They Know Of One Dimension Only; They Walk Along The Line As If They Were Led On A String. The Transition From The Line To The Plane Into The Two Dimensions, When You Wander Across A Field Or Through A Wood, Is A Splendid Liberation To The Slaves, Like The French Revolution. But In The Air You Are Taken Into The Full Freedom Of The Three Dimensions; After Long Ages Of Exile And Dreams The Homesick Heart Throws Itself Into The Arms Of Space.

Through The Loveliness And Power Of Her Dream World She Was Now, In Her Old Frock And Botched Shoes, Very Likely The Loveliest, Mightiest And Most Dangerous Person On Earth

Human Talk Is A Centrifugal Function, Ever In Flight Outwards From What Is On The Talker's Mind.

I Had A Farm In Africa, At The Foot Of The Ngong Hills.

There Are Times Of Great Beauty On A Coffee Farm. When The Plantation Flowered In The Beginning Of The Rains, It Was A Radiant Sight, Like A Cloud Of Chalk, In The Mist Of The Drizzling Rain.