The Saluki Is A Marvel Of Elegance.

It Is Necessary To Write, If The Days Are Not To Slip Emptily By. How Else, Indeed, To Clap The Net Over The Butterfly Of The Moment? For The Moment Passes, It Is Forgotten; The Mood Is Gone; Life Itself Is Gone. That Is Where The Writer Scores Over His Fellows: He Catches The Changes Of His Mind On The Hop.

That Pathetic Short-cut Suggested By Nature The Supreme Joker As A Remedy For Our Loneliness, That Ephemeral Communion Which We Persuade Ourselves To Be Of The Spirit When It Is In Fact Only Of The Body - Durable Not Even In Memory!

Flowers Really Do Intoxicate Me.

My Garden All Is Overblown With Roses,/ My Spirit All Is Overblown With Rhyme.

I Have Come To The Conclusion, After Many Years Of Sometimes Sad Experience, That You Cannot Come To Any Conclusion At All.