Time Had Changed The Magical

What Folly Made Young People, Even Those In Middle Age, Think They Were Immortal? How Much Better, Their Lives, If They Could Remember The End. Carrying Your Death With You Every Day Would Make It Hard To Waste Time On Unkindness And Anger And Bitterness, On Anything Petty. That Was The Secret: Remembering Your Dying Time, In Order To Keep The Stupid And The Ugly Out Of Your Living Time.

If There Was An Abundance Of Misery In The World, There Was Also Sufficient Joy, Yes - As Long As One Knew Where To Look For It.

But Nobody Ever Forgot Anything, Not Really, Though Sometimes They Pretended, When It Suited Them. Memories Were Permanent. Sorrowful Ones Remained Sad Even With The Passing Of Time, Yet Happy Ones Could Never Be Recreated - Not With The Same Joy. Remembering Bred Its Own Peculiar Sorrow. It Seemed So Unfair: That Time Should Render Both Sadness And Happiness Into A Source Of Pain.

...you Have To Use Your Failures As Stepping Stones To Success. You Have To Maintain A Fine Balance Between Hope And Despair. In The End It’s All A Question Of Balance.

You See, You Cannot Draw Lines And Compartments, And Refuse To Budge Beyond Them, Sometimes You Have To Use Your Failures As Stepping Stones To Success