Most Of The People Are

One Can't Be Too Dangerous, If They Like To Eat Pancakes. Especially With Jam On It.

It Is Still Summer, But The Summer Is No Longer Alive. It Has Come To A Standstill; Nothing Withers, And Fall Is Not Ready To Begin. There Are No Stars Yet, Just Darkness.

Christmas Always Rustled. It Rustled Every Time, Mysteriously, With Silver And Gold Paper, Tissue Paper And A Rich Abundance Of Shiny Paper, Decorating And Hiding Everything And Giving A Feeling Of Reckless Extravagance.

It's Risky To Talk About One's Most Secret Dreams A Bit Too Early.

All Things Are So Very Uncertain, And That's Exactly What Makes Me Feel Reassured.