The Great Artist, Whether He Be Musician,

We Cannot Pluck A Flower Witout Disturbing A Star.

Every Time We Walk Along A Beach Some Ancient Urge Disturbs Us So That We Find Ourselves Shedding Shoes And Garments Or Scavenging Among Seaweed And Whitened Timbers Like The Homesick Refugees Of A Long War.

It Is A Funny Thing What The Brain Will Do With Memories And How It Will Treasure Them And Finally Bring Them Into Odd Juxtapositions With Other Things, As Though It Wanted To Make A Design, Or Get Some Meaning Out Of Them, Whether You Want It Or Not, Or Even See It.

The Future Is Neither Ahead Nor Behind, On One Side Or Another. Nor Is It Dark Or Light. It Is Contained Within Ourselves; Its Evil And Good Are Perpetually Within Us.

Man Inhabits A Realm Half In And Half Out Of Nature, His Mind Reaching Forever Beyond The Tool, The Uniformity, The Law, Into Some Realm Which Is That Of The Mind Alone.