One Must Lose One's Life To Find

My Father Taught Me That A Bill Is Like A Crying Baby And Has To Be Attended To At Once.

People "died" All The Time. . . . Parts Of Them Died When They Made The Wrong Kinds Of Decisions-decisions Against Life. Sometimes They Died Bit By Bit Until Finally They Were Just Living Corpses Walking Around. If You Were Perceptive You Could See It In Their Eyes; The Fire Had Gone Out. . . You Always Knew When You Made A Decision Against Life. The Door Clicked And You Were Safe Inside-safe And Dead.

One Must Lose One's Life To Find It.

Forsythia Is Pure Joy. There Is Not An Ounce, Not A Glimmer Of Sadness Or Even Knowledge In Forsythia. Pure, Undiluted, Untouched Joy.

If One Talks To More Than Four People, It Is An Audience; And One Cannot Really Think Or Exchange Thoughts With An Audience.