There Is No Stillness Like

Some Men Are Heroes By Nature In That They Will Give All That Is In Them Without Regard To The Effort Or To The Personal Returns.

But The Hearts Of Small Children Are Delicate Organs. A Cruel Beginning In This World Can Twist Them Into Curious Shapes. The Heart Of A Hurt Child Can Shrink So That Forever Afterward It Is Hard And Pitted As The Seed Of A Peach. Or Again, The Heart Of Such A Child May Fester And Swell Until It Is A Misery To Carry Within The Body, Easily Chafed And Hurt By The Most Ordinary Things.

For In A Swift Radiance Of Illumination He Saw A Glimpse Of Human Struggle And Valor. Of The Endless Fluid Passage Of The Humanity Through Endless Time. And Of Those Who Labor And Of Those Who - One Word- Love. His Soul Expanded. But For A Moment Only. For In Him, He Felt A Warning, A Shaft Of Terror.

The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter With Only One Desire! To Find Some Lasting Comfort In The Arms Of Anothers Fire...driven By A Desperate Hunger To The Arms Of A Neon Light, The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter When There's No Sign Of Love In Sight!

A Most Mediocre Person Can Be The Object Of A Love Which Is Wild, Extravagant, And Beautiful As The Poison Lillies Of The Swamp.