If It Weren't For Music, I Would

World War Ii Is The War That Made Our World. There's No Question About That. The History Of All The Years In Which I Will Spend My Life, Every Single One, That Is The Seminal Event Of The History That We Will Experience.

I Follow My Own Nose. So I Read Things That Are Different. People Will Always Say To Me, "have You Read Robert S. Bosco's Latest Novel?" Or "have You Read So And So's History Of Peru, Which Is Reviewed In The New York Review Of Books And The New York Times And Has A Buzz About It?" I Don't Even Know What You're Talking About. I'm Like From Another Planet. I'm A Pygmy From The Jungle.

Not Surprisingly, He Began To Sing, And Because No One In The World Could Hear Him, And He Sang Without Inhibition, He Sang Well.

How The Holy And The Profane Mix In The Light Of Day And At The End Of Life Is Sometimes The Most Beautiful Thing In This World And A Compassionate Entry Into The Next. After Failure And Defeat, A Concentration Upon Certain Beauties, Though Forever Lost And Unretrievable, Can Lift The Wounded Past Roundedness And The Dying Past Dying, Protecting Them With An Image, Still And Bright, That Will Ride With Them On Their Long Ride, Never To Fade And Never To Retreat.

...i Returned To Walking Up The Mountain, And There, In The Dim Asexual Beauty Of Reddening Dawns And Skies That Firmed To Blue, I Discovered My Real And Appropriate Strengths.