Swift the days like fleeting clouds that race across the sky go on from here and find their way into the long halls of memory and future times like mirrors on opposing walls that catch the sense of eternity and let you see from here to there to there forever into a distant future past where we were and soon will be and cannot always find our way but with each other’s calls halloo and here and come and follow and now we catch a glimpse and think we see each other far ahead or there behind and yet we were so recently together but now not so closely by and yet not so distanced either.

Frisch weht der Wind der Heimat zu; mein liebsten Bruder wo weilest du?

I believe in God the Eternal Father, and in His Son Jesus Christ, and in their anthropomorphicity and their munificence and their closeness and their corporeal reality.

I believe the world of spirits is here, all around us, composed of such fine matter that it is imperceptible to our keenest instruments; but nonetheless there, real, true.