I Think In Any Writing You're Paying

In The Clearness Of This Himalayan Air, Mountains Draw Near, And In Such Splendor, Tears Come Quietly To My Eyes And Cool On My Sunburned Cheeks. This Is Not Mere Soft-mindedness, Nor Am I All That Silly With The Altitude. My Head Has Cleared In These Weeks Free Of Intrusions- Mail, Telephones, People And Their Needs- And I Respond To Things Spontaneously, Without Defensive Or Self-conscious Screens. Still, All This Feeling Is Astonishing: Not So Long Ago I Could Say Truthfully That I Had Not Shed A Tear In Twenty Years.

My Eye Is Fixed Not On The Ending Of The Book But On The Feeling Of That Ending.

I Think In Any Writing You're Paying Attention To Detail.

Be Light, Light, Light - Full Of Light!

For Some Time I Watch The Coming Of The Night? Above Is The Glistening Galaxy Of Childhood, Now Hidden In The Western World By Air Pollution And The Glare Of Artificial Light; For My Children's Children, The Power, Peace And Healing Of The Night Will Be Obliterated.