Life, Unlike The Inanimate, Will

In The Days Of The Frost Seek An Minor Sun.

Tomorrow Lurks In Us, The Latency To Be All That Was Not Achieved Before.

Without The Gift Of Flowers And The Infinite Diversity Of Their Fruits, Man And Bird, If They Had Continued To Exist At All, Would Be Today Unrecognizable.

The Great Artist, Whether He Be Musician, Painter, Or Poet, Is Known For This Absolute Unexpectedness.

Perhaps A Creature Of So Much Ingenuity And Deep Memory Is Almost Bound To Grow Alienated From His World, His Fellows, And The Objects Around Him. He Suffers From A Nostalgia For Which There Is No Remedy Upon Earth Except As It Is To Be Found In The Enlightenment Of The Spirit--some Ability To Have A Perceptive Rather Than An Exploitive Relationship With His Fellow Creatures.