Inexperience Loves To Preach.

If Only We Know, Boss, What The Stones And Rain And Flowers Say. Maybe They Call-call Us-and We Don't Hear Them. When Will People's Ears Open, Boss? When Shall We Have Our Eyes Open To See? When Shall We Open Our Arms To Embrace Everything-stones, Rain, Flowers, And People? What Do You Think About That, Boss? And What Do Your Books Have To Say About That?

I Believe I'm A Caterpillar Buried Deep Down Under The Ground. The Entire Earth Is Above Me, Crushing Me And I Begin To Bore Through The Soil, Making A Passage To The Surface So That I Can Penetrate The Crust And Issue Into The Light. It's Hard Work Boring Through The Entire Earth, But I'm Able To Be Patient Because I Have A Strong Premonition That As Soon As I Do Issue Into The Light I Shall Become A Butterfly.

I Should Learn To Run, To Wrestle, To Swim, To Ride Horses, To Row, To Drive A Car, To Fire A Rifle. I Should Fill My Soul With Flesh. I Should Fill My Flesh With Soul. In Fact, I Should Reconcile At Last Within Me The Two Internal Antagonists.

How Does The Light Of A Star Set Out And Plunge Into Black Eternity In Its Immortal Course? The Star Dies, But The Light Never Dies; Such Also Is The Cry Of Freedom.

Never In My Life Have I Feared Death As Much As I Feared That Resurrection.