All My Life I Have Been Acutely

I Had No Taste For Defeat - Much Less Victory - Without A Fight.

We Had Stretched Out Our Arms To Each Other And Supported Something In Our Joined Hands, But This Thing We Were Holding Was Like A Sort Of Gas That Exists When You Believe In Its Existence And Disappears When You Doubt. The Task Of Supporting It Seems Simple At First Glance, But Actually Requires An Ultimate Refinement Of Calculation And A Consummate Skill.

In The Pale Light Of Daybreak The Gravestones Looked Like So Many White Sails Of Boats Anchored In A Busy Harbor. They Were Sails That Would Never Again Be Filled With Wind, Sails That, Too Long Unused And Heavily Drooping, Had Been Turned Into Stone Just As They Were. The Boats' Anchors Had Been Thrust So Deeply Into The Dark Earth That They Could Never Again Be Raised.

At No Time Are We Ever In Such Complete Possession Of A Journey, Down To Its Last Nook And Cranny, As When We Are Busy With Preparations For It. After That, There Remains Only The Journey Itself, Which Is Nothing But The Process Through Which We Lose Our Ownership Of It.

Human Beings - They Go On Being Born And Dying, Dying And Being Born. It's Kind Of Boring, Isn't It?