It Is The Duty Of

A Child Is Not Frightened At The Thought Of Being Patiently Transmuted Into An Old Man.

Only He Can Understand What A Farm Is, What A Country Is, Who Shall Have Sacrificed Part Of Himself To His Farm Or Country, Fought To Save It, Struggled To Make It Beautiful. Only Then Will The Love Of Farm Or Country Fill His Heart.

The Magic Of The Craft Has Opened For Me A World In Which I Shall Confront, Within Two Hours, The Black Dragons And The Crowned Crests Of A Coma Of Blue Lightnings, And When Night Has Fallen I, Delivered, Shall Read My Course In The Starts.

Of Course I’ll Hurt You. Of Course You’ll Hurt Me. Of Course We Will Hurt Each Other. But This Is The Very Condition Of Existence. To Become Spring, Means Accepting The Risk Of Winter. To Become Presence, Means Accepting The Risk Of Absence.

One Cannot Build Life From Refrigerators, Politics, Credit Statements And Crossword Puzzles. That Is Impossible. Nor Can One Exist For Any Length Of Time Without Poetry, Without Color, Without Love.