The Wolf Is Living For The Earth.

The Deeps Are Cold: In That Darkness Camaraderie Does Not Hold: Nothing Touches But, Clutching, Devours.

And That's How We Measure Out Our Real Respect For People—by The Degree Of Feeling They Can Register, The Voltage Of Life They Can Carry And Tolerate—and Enjoy. End Of Sermon. As Buddha Says: Live Like A Mighty River. And As The Old Greeks Said: Live As Though All Your Ancestors Were Living Again Through You.

The Shell The Sea Fills My Ear With Sand And With Fear. You May Wash Out The Sand, But Never The Sound Of The Ghost Of The Sea That Is Haunting Me.

You Solve It As You Get Older, When You Reach The Point Where You've Tasted So Much That You Can Somehow Sacrifice Certain Things More Easily, And You Have A More Tolerant View Of Things Like Possessiveness (your Own) And A Broader Acceptance Of The Pains And The Losses.

The Real Mystery Is This Strange Need. Why Can't We Just Hide It And Shut Up? Why Do We Have To Blab? Why Do Human Beings Need To Confess?