The Creative Element In The

The Journey Is Difficult, Immense. We Will Travel As Far As We Can, But We Cannot In One Lifetime See All That We Would Like To See Or To Learn All That We Hunger To Know.

Primitives Of Our Own Species, Even Today Are Historically Shallow In Their Knowledge Of The Past. Only The Poet Who Writes Speaks His Message Across The Millennia To Other Hearts.

If There Is Magic On This Planet, It Is Contained In Water.

As For Men, Those Myriad Little Detached Ponds With Their Own Swarming Corpuscular Life, What Were They But A Way That Water Has Of Going About Beyond The Reach Of Rivers?

[on Common Water.] Its Substance Reaches Everywhere; It Touches The Past And Prepares The Future; It Moves Under The Poles And Wanders Thinly In The Heights Of Air. It Can Assume Forms Of Exquisite Perfection In A Snowflake, Or Strip The Living To A Single Shining Bone Cast Up By The Sea.