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PARABLES
Short Songs into the Long Night There is nothing more pitiful than the storyteller
without his stories. He goes out to the people and
listens to them, observes them, fights them, befriends
them and is so amazed and frightened by them he spends
his time reading over old pamphlets about democracy.
Ah, they have stories! Do not some voices contain a
spore that crashes into the brain and destroys some
previous conflict? It is true but, then, the storyteller
persists. After all, he sees the local culture and
decides, ah, there are stories here. And yet, what is a
story without a character? And what is a character without
some moral intention? Have the gods confounded the story
teller? He has passed in and through marvelous stories like
owls through a grove of old trees. He will talk only to
animals and babbling children for awhile to exchange
fantastic shapes out of the joy of living.
Look into the present and local world!
Look into eternity.
He finds that the sense of things has enlarged beyond
the realm of good taste. The barbaric people convince him that
they worship what kills them and will have it no other
way.
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