The End Of Exile Is The End

They Will Be Like Shadows, They Will Be Like Wraiths, Gray Members Of A Congregation Of Nightmare; Hark! His Long Wavering Howl . . . An Aria Of Fear Made Audible. The Wolfsong Is The Sound Of The Rending You Will Suffer, In Itself A Murdering.

To Ride A Bicycle Is In Itself Some Protection Against Superstitious Fears, Since The Bicycle Is The Product Of Pure Reason Applied To Motion. Geometry At The Service Of Man! Give Me Two Spheres And A Straight Line And I Will Show You How Far I Can Take Them. Voltaire Himself Might Have Invented The Bicycle, Since It Contributes So Much To Man’s Welfare And Nothing At All To His Bane. Beneficial To The Health, It Emits No Harmful Fumes And Permits Only The Most Decorous Speeds. How Can A Bicycle Ever Be An Implement Of Harm?

The Invisible Is Only Another Unexplored Country, A Brave New World.

Sad; So Sad, Those Smoky-rose, Smoky-mauve Evenings Of Late Autumn, Sad Enough To Pierce The Heart.

The Wolf Is Carnivore Incarnate And He's As Cunning As He Is Ferocious; Once He's Had A Taste Of Flesh Then Nothing Else Will Do.