You Have To Taste The

Leavening The Flat Bread Of What We Know, With The Yeast Of What We Dream May Come To Pass.

O Little One, My Little One, Come With Me, Your Life Is Done. Forget The Future, Forget The Past. Life Is Over: Breathe Your Last.

My Father Used To Say: Every Bird Is One Bird, And Every Book Is One Book, And Every Bird And Every Book Is One Thing Too, Under The Words And The Feathers." He Finished With A Flourish, As Though The Meaning Of This Was Self-evident.

We Are All Our Own Graveyards, I Believe; We Squat Amongst The Tombs Of The People We Were. If We're Healthy, Every Day Is A Celebration, A Day Of The Dead, In Which We Give Thanks For The Lives That We Lived, And If We Are Neurotic We Brood And Mourn And Wish That The Past Was Still Present.

As For Theatre, There's Ups And Downs To Everything. Theatre Is Ephemeral. But That Is Part Of Its Charm Because You Can Always Say The Production Was Better Than It Was.