Time Is A Funny Thing. I Was

Once I Unlocked The Mystery Of The Alphabet That Led To Words, A Multitude Of Words Connecting Me To The World, There Was No Stopping Me.

Old As He Was, He Still Missed His Daddy Sometimes.

She Could Walk Through A Lightning Storm Without Being Touched; Grab A Bolt Of Lightning In The Palm Of Her Hand; Use The Heat Of Lightning To Start The Kindling Going Under Her Medicine Pot. She Turned The Moon Into Salve, The Stars Into Swaddling Cloth, And Healed The Wounds Of Every Creature Walking Up On Two Or Down On Four.

There's Something Hypocritical About A City That Keeps Half Of Its Population Underground Half Of The Time; You Can Start Believing That There's Much More Space Than There Really Is-to Live, To Work.

In A Contest Between New Technology And Old Ways Of Life, It Is The Traditional Rhythms That Will Hold. Traditional Societies Make Up More Than Two-thirds Of The World, The Two-thirds That Will Not Be Going Online To "save" Time But Will Remain Wedded To The Knowledge That If The Bus Doesn't Come That Day, It Will Come Someday. After All, There Is Nothing But Time.