When Good Befalls A Man He Calls

A Word Can Be Transformed Into A Coulour, Light, A Smell; It Is The Writer's Task To Use It In Such A Way That It Serves, Never Fails, Can Never Be Ignored.

I Love Three Things," I Then Say. "i Love A Dream Of Love I Once Had, I Love You, And I Love This Patch Of Earth." "and Which Do You Love Best?" "the Dream.

But Things Worked Out. Everything Works Out. Though Sometimes They Work Out Sideways.

In Old Age We Are Like A Batch Of Letters That Someone Has Sent. We Are No Longer In The Past, We Have Arrived.

I Have Had Much To Learn From Sweden's Poetry And, More Especially, From Her Lyrics Of The Last Generation.