The Good Traveler Has The Gift Of

There Was An Immeasurable Distance Between The Quick And The Dead: They Did Not Seem To Belong To The Same Species; And It Was Strange To Think That But A Little While Before They Had Spoken And Moved And Eaten And Laughed.

This Love Was A Torment, And He Resented Bitterly The Subjugation In Which It Held Him; He Was A Prisoner And He Longed For Freedom. Sometimes He Awoke In The Morning And Felt Nothing; His Soul Leaped, For He Thought He Was Free; He Loved No Longer; But In A Little While, As He Grew Wide Awake, The Pain Settled In His Heart, And He Knew That He Was Not Cured Yet.

I Write Only When Inspiration Strikes. Fortunately It Strikes Every Morning At Nine O'clock Sharp.

The Complete Life, The Perfect Pattern, Includes Old Age As Well As Youth And Maturity. The Beauty Of The Morning And The Radiance Of Noon Are Good, But It Would Be A Very Silly Person Who Drew The Curtains And Turned On The Light In Order To Shut Out The Tranquillity Of The Evening. Old Age Has Its Pleasures, Which, Though Different, Are Not Less Than The Pleasures Of Youth.

If You Don't Change Your Beliefs, Your Life Will Be Like This Forever. Is That Good News?