Only He Can Understand What A Farm

We Live Not By Things, But By The Meaning Of Things. It Is Needful To Transmit The Passwords From Generation To Generation.

No One Has Tamed You And You Haven't Tamed Anyone.your'e The Way My Fox Was. He Was Just A Fox Like A Hundred Thousand Others. But I've Made Him My Friend, And Now He's The Only Fox In The World.

The Machine Does Not Isolate Man From The Great Problems Of Nature But Plunges Him More Deeply Into Them.

The Strong Are Strengthened By Reverses; The Trouble Is That The True Meaning Of Events Scores Next To Nothing In The Match We Play With Men. Appearances Decide Our Gains Or Losses And The Points Are Trumpery. And A Mere Semblance Of Defeat May Hopelessly Checkmate Us.

On A Day Of Burial There Is No Perspective--for Space Itself Is Annihilated. Your Dead Friend Is Still A Fragmentary Being. The Day You Bury Him Is A Day Of Chores And Crowds, Of Hands False Or True To Be Shaken, Of The Immediate Cares Of Mourning. The Dead Friend Will Not Really Die Until Tomorrow, When Silence Is Round You Again. Then He Will Show Himself Complete, As He Was--to Tear Himself Away, As He Was, From The Substantial You. Only Then Will You Cry Out Because Of Him Who Is Leaving And Whom You Cannot Detain.