I Like This . . . I Like That

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.

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