The stones were sharp, The wind came at my back; Walking along the highway, Mincing like a cat.

I came where the river Ran over stones; My ears knew An early joy. And all the waters Of all the streams Sang in my veins That summer day.

How body from spirit slowly does unwind, until we are pure spirit at the end.

What is madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?

In the kingdom of bang and blab.

The fields stretch out in long unbroken rows. We walk aware of what is far and close. Here distance is familiar as a friend. The feud we kept with space comes to an end.

A too explicit elucidation in education destroys much of the pleasure of learning. There should be room for sly hinters, masters of suggestion.