It's Hard Luck Always Having To Be

So The Crew Fly On With No Thought That They Are In Motion. Like Night Over The Sea, They Are Very Far From The Earth, From Towns, From Trees. The Clock Ticks On. The Dials, The Radio Lamps, The Various Hands And Needles Go Though Their Invisible Alchemy. . . . And When The Hour Is At Hand The Pilot May Glue His Forehead To The Window With Perfect Assurance. Out Of Oblivion The Gold Has Been Smelted: There It Gleams In The Lights Of The Airport.

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.

If A Sheep Eats Bushes Does It Eat Flowers Too? A Sheep Eats Whatever It Finds Even A Flower With Thorn? Even A Flower With Thorns. Then What's The Good Of Thorns?

She Cast Her Fragrance And Her Radiance Over Me. I Ought Never To Have Run Away From Her... I Ought To Have Guessed All The Affection That Lay Behind Her Poor Little Stratagems. Flowers Are So Inconsistent! But I Was Too Young To Know How To Love Her.

One Man May Hit The Mark, Another Blunder; But Heed Not These Distinctions. Only From The Alliance Of The One, Working With And Through The Other, Are Great Things Born.