One Could Go On Revising

In The Novel Or The Journal You Get The Journey. In A Poem You Get The Arrival.

A Holiday Gives One A Chance To Look Backward And Forward; To Reset Oneself By An Inner Compass.

We Are All, Whether We Know It Or Not, In Search Of A Way To Enrich, To Drink During The Fizz, To Inhale Deeper Our Gifts, In A Desperation For Some Little Understanding Before Death.

What We Have Not Has Made Us What We Are. / ... / What We Are Not Drives Us To Consummation.

About Loving, I Have Little To Learn From The Young.