What A Splendid Time Woo Must Have

I Thought My Mountain Was Coming This Morning. It Was Near To Speaking When Suddenly It Shifted, Sulked, And Returned To Smallness. It Has Eluded Me Again And Sits There, Puny And Dull. Why?

My Mountain Is Dead. As Soon As She Has Dried, I'll Bury Her Under A Decent Layer Of White Paint. But I Haven't Done With The Old Lady; Far From It!

The Memory Of Cumshewa Is Of A Great Lonesomeness Smothered In A Blur Of Rain.

You Come Into The World Alone And You Go Out Of The World Alone Yet It Seems To Me You Are More Alone While Living Than Even Going And Coming.

Don't Take What Someone Else Has Made Sure Of And Pretend It's You Yourself That Have Made Sure Of It Till It's Yours Absolutely By Conviction. It's Stealing To Take It And Hypocrisy And You'll Fall Into A Hole.