You Know, Some People Fall

Our Songs Travel The Earth. We Sing To One Another. Not A Single Note Is Ever Lost And No Song Is Original. They All Come From The Same Place And Go Back To A Time When Only The Stones Howled.

Women Without Children Are Also The Best Of Mothers,often, With The Patience,interest, And Saving Grace That The Constant Relationship With Children Cannot Always Sustain. I Come To Crave Our Talk And Our Daughters Gain Precious Aunts. Women Who Are Not Mothering Their Own Children Have The Clarity And Focus To See Deeply Into The Character Of Children Webbed By Family. A Child Is Fortuante Who Feels Witnessed As A Peron,outside Relationships With Parents By Another Adult.

Death Is The Least Civilized Rite Of Passage.

Numbers, Time, Inches, Feet. All Are Just Ploys For Cutting Nature Down To Size.

History Works Itself Out In The Living.