Who Tells A Finer Tale

I Don't Think... One Get A Flash Of Happiness Once, And Never Again; It Is There Deep Within You.

Where A Pack Of Monkeys Had Traveled Over The Road, The Smell Of Them Lingered For A Long Time In The Air, A Dry And Stale, Mousy Smell.

People Who Dream When They Sleep At Night Know Of A Special Kind Of Happiness Which The World Of The Day Holds Not, A Placid Ecstasy, And Ease Of Heart, That Are Like Honey On The Tongue.

To Me, The Explanation Of Life Seems To Be Its Melody, Its Pattern. And I Feel In Life Such An Infinite, Truly Inconceivable Fantasy.

Difficult Times Have Helped Me To Understand Better Than Before, How Infinitely Rich And Beautiful Life Is In Every Way, And That So Many Things That One Goes Worrying About Are Of No Importance Whatsoever.