There Is No Way; We Make The

Man's Passion For Truth Is Such That He Will Welcome The Bitterest Of All Postulates So Long As It Strikes Him As True.

My Soul Is Not Asleep. It Is Awake, Wide Awake. It Neither Sleeps Nor Dreams, But Watches, Its Eyes Wide Open Far-off Things, And Listens At The Shores Of The Great Silence.

Beyond Living And Dreaming There Is Something More Important: Waking Up.

And To Walk Through Life In Dreams Out Of Love For The Hand That Guides Us.

The Afternoon Is Bright, With Spring In The Air, A Mild March Afternoon, With The Breath Of April Stirring, I Am Alone In The Quiet Patio Looking For Some Old Untried Illusion - Some Shadow On The Whiteness Of The Wall Some Memory Asleep On The Stone Rim Of The Fountain, Perhaps In The Air The Light Swish Of Some Trailing Gown.