Now, I hope you will understand when I say I write to you near death, and that the death I refer to, while perhaps not imminent, is our own. For at any moment, you and I can go out like a light, as the saying is, and as calmly and casually as a child pulls petals from a rose. And I hope you will understand when I say I am not saddened by this truth. Because this prospect of death, it seems to me, is our key to beauty. That all things end is part of what makes their unique individual presence so precious. We see it in clouds, in trees, on hillsides, and are content that this is so. But when death claims someone near, we are bereft and lonely when we suddenly realize we took the departed for granted. And therein is our lesson. And because it is a lesson, it too is beautiful, as everything that teaches us is. And everything does, once we see it, once we give this simple truth free reign. And now I will begin again. And that, there is no need to explain.