Cries Of Despair, Misery, Sobbing Grief Are

All Grown-ups Were Once Children... But Only Few Of Them Remember It.

Nobody Grasped You By The Shoulder While There Was Still Time. Now The Clay Of Which You Were Shaped Has Dried And Hardened, And Naught In You Will Ever Awaken The Sleeping Musician, The Poet, The Asronomer That Possibly Inhabited You In The Beginning.

Trying To Be Witty Leads To Lying, More Or Less.

I Wonder," He Said, "whether The Stars Are Set Alight In Heaven So That One Day Each One Of Us May Find His Own Again.

One Is A Member Of A Country, A Profession, A Civilization, A Religion. One Is Not Just A Man.