All Good Things Come By Grace, And

My Father Was Very Sure About Certain Matters Pertaining To The Universe. To Him All Good Things-trout As Well As Eternal Salvation-come By Grace And Grace Comes By Art And Art Does Not Come Easy.

...life Every Now And Then Becomes Literature...as If Life Had Been Made And Not Happened.

We Sat On The Bank And The River Went By. As Always, It Was Making Sounds To Itself, And Now It Made Sounds To Us. It Would Be Hard To Find Three Men Sitting Side By Side Who Knew Better What A River Was Saying.

I Am Haunted By Waters.

As I Get Considerably Beyond The Biblical Allotment Of Three Score Years And Ten, I Feel With Increasing Intensity That I Can Express My Gratitude For Still Being Around On The Oxygen-side Of The Earth's Crust Only By Not Standing Pat On What I Have Hitherto Known And Loved. While Oxygen Lasts, There Are Still New Things To Love, Especially If Compassion Is A Form Of Love.