My Drawing Was Not A Picture Of

Sorrow Is One Of The Vibrations That Prove The Fact Of Living.

Only The Unknown Frightens Men. But Once A Man Has Faced The Unknown, That Terror Becomes The Known.

There Is A Cheap Literature That Speaks To Us Of The Need Of Escape. It Is True That When We Travel We Are In Search Of Distance. But Distance Is Not To Be Found. It Melts Away. And Escape Has Never Led Anywhere. The Moment A Man Finds That He Must Play The Races, Go The Arctic, Or Make War In Order To Feel Himself Alive, That Man Has Begin To Spin The Strands That Bind Him To Other Men And To The World. But What Wretched Strands! A Civilization That Is Really Strong Fills Man To The Brim, Though He Never Stir. What Are We Worth When Motionless, Is The Question.

If Some One Loves A Flower Of Which Just One Example Exists Among All The Millions And Millions Of Stars, That's Enough To Make Him Happy When He Looks At The Stars. He Tells Himself, "my Flower's Up There Somewhere. . . ." But If The Sheep Eats The Flower, Then For Him It's As If, Suddenly, All The Stars Went Out. And That Isn't Important?

Loneliness Is Bred Of A Mind That Has Grown Earth-bound.