You and I can turn and lookat the silent river and wait. We knowthe current is there, hidden; and thereare comings and goings from miles awaythat hold the stillness exactly before us.What the river says, that is what I say.

Even the upper end of the riverbelieves in the ocean.

We are all in the same boat,
boat of life. Does not seem
to be a rudder with oarsman.
Perhaps my words may find a
path, path through currents and water
as we continue our journey on
river of life.
-River of Life

My name is William Tell:when little oppressions touch mearrows hidden in my cloakwhisper, "Ready, ready."

You happy beings, watch every face for thoseyou pass caught in the midst of lifeby some horror, their souls gone dim, cursedor unlucky, exiled under a stone.

I keep following this sort of hidden river of my life, you know, whatever the topic or impulse which comes, I follow it along trustingly. And I don't have any sense of its coming to a kind of crescendo, or of its petering out either. It is just going steadily along.