We Are Not Always What

Her Face Was A Stranger’s Face, Which Was As It Should Be. Love Each Other From The Day We Are Born To The Day We Die, We Are Still Strangers Every Minute, And Nobody Should Forget That, Even Though We Have To.

He Is A Great Enough Magician To Tap Our Most Common Nightmares, Daydreams And Twilight Fancies, But He Never Invented Them Either: He Found Them A Place To Live, A Green Alternative To Each Day's Madness Here In A Poisoned World. We Are Raised To Honor All The Wrong Explorers And Discoverers - Thieves Planting Flags, Murderers Carrying Crosses. Let Us At Last Praise The Colonizers Of Dreams.

Who Has Choices Need Not Choose. We Must, Who Have None. We Can Love But What We Lose-- What Is Gone Is Gone.

I Know How To Live Here, I Know How Everything Smells, And Tastes, And Is. What Could I Ever Search For In The World, Except This Again?

For A Moment She Turned In A Circle, Staring At Her Hands, Which She Held High And Useless, Close To Her Breast. She Bobbed And Shambled Like An Ape Doing A Trick, And Her Face Was The Silly, Bewildered Face Of A Joker's Victim. And Yet She Could Make No Move That Was Not Beautiful. Her Trapped Terror Was More Lovely Than Any Joy That Molly Had Ever Seen, And That Was The Most Terrible Thing About It.