Curses Of Vanished Elders Echoed Down On

I Was Good And Bad, But Never Wicked.

All The Stories I Have Told You Are Finally As Useless As All Ancient Knowledge Is To Man And To Us. Its Images And Its Poetry Can Be Beautiful; It Can Make Us Shiver With The Recognition Of Things We Have Always Suspected Or Felt. It Can Draw Us Back To Times When The Earth Was New To Man, And Wondrous. But Always We Come Back To The Way The Earth Is Now.

But During All These Years I Had A Vague But Persistent Desire To Return To New Orleans. I Never Forgot New Orleans. And When We Were In Tropical Places And Places Of Those Flowers And Trees That Grow In Louisiana, I Would Think Of It Acutely And I Would Feel For My Home The Only Glimmer Of Desire I Felt For Anything Outside My Endless Pursuit Of Art.

Say What You Will To The Force That Governs The Universe. Perhaps We'll Call It Into Being, And It Will Yet Love Us As We Love It.

Should We Put Out The Light? And Then Put Out The Light. But Once Put Out Thy Light, I Cannot Give It Vital Breath Again. It Needs Must Wither.