Happiness Is Not A Possession To Be

Writers Should Be Read, But Neither Seen Nor Heard.

The Urge To Climb Will Never Be Explained. In Olden Days, Perhaps It Was A Wish To Reach The Stars. Today, Anyone So Minded Can Buy A Seat On A Plane And Feel Himself Master Of The Skies. Even So, He Will Not Have Rock Under His Feet, Or Air Upon His Face; Nor Will He Know The Silence That Comes Only On The Hills.

Dead Men Tell No Tales, Mary.

Here Was The Freedom I Desired, Long Sought-for, Not Yet Known Freedom To Write, To Walk, To Wander, Freedom To Climb Hills, To Pull A Boat, To Be Alone.

How Simple Life Becomes When Things Like Mirrors Are Forgotten.