I Think That Travel Comes

It Was The Hour When Gauze-winged Insects Are Born That Only Live For A Day.

There Is No Beauty Or Romance Or Mystery In The Sea Except For The Men That Sail Abroad Upon It, And Those Who Stay At Home And Dream Of Them.

I Think That Travel Comes From Some Deep Urge To See The World, Like The Urge That Brings Up A Worm In An Irish Bog To See The Moon When It Is Full.

And She Would Not Hold Back His Limbs When His Heart Was Gone To The Woods, For It Is Ever The Way Of Witches With Any Two Things To Care For The More Mysterious Of The Two.

Everyone's Future Is, In Reality, Uncertain And Full Of Unknown Treasures From Which All May Draw Unguessed Prizes.