I Like This . . . I Like That

A defense of something, anything, depends on a person’s attitude and on his interpretation of function and existence. A philosophy of life, for example, may take on some importance if this or that thing proves it. However, if the philosophy proves, or tends to prove, everything else, then it takes on a more signiflcant hue.
I think of my ’00 Activa (which I haven’t named, by the way, just to prove that I am a rebel). At ‘ any rate, the scooter is a mess . . . bul I like my Activa because tt is better than walking, and it is better than walking merely because it is and does what it was meant to be and do.
I like old people because they have age: I like young people because they don’t.

I like sweet, gentle rain that comes down like soft prayers because it is soft and gentle; I like a violent storm with thunder and lightning because I hear the voice of God and see His flashing eyes.
I like the march of soldiers in a parade because it is regimented: I like the stroll of lovers in a park because it is so aimless.
I love a friend simply because he is my friend: and he is my friend simply because I love him.
But I cannot hate a person . . . because I feel as Rodin, the French sculptor, who said, “I look only for the good in man, the rest I leave to God.”
And then, of course, I like a gentle breeze that barely moves the tips of wheat in a field because it is gentle: I like a strong wind because when people tell me to go fly a kite . . . I can.