If you run away from trouble, it always follows.' Rather my impression, too. Though that never stopped me trying.

It gets cold in the desert at night, particularly up in the mountains; the stars hammer on the rock and strike frost.

If you run away from trouble, it always follows.' Rather my impression, too. Though that never stopped me trying.

I haven't changed. Something's happened to me, that's all.

When I am fascinated by something, I like to play with it.

I never know where I am going, though. That is part of what makes it so wonderful. And after all, who does?

How massively the mountains stand, while low to the ground the sand blows. The sand blows on and on. And then there are no mountains, none at all, the sand has kissed and whispered them away. And still, the sand blows on.