By Beryl Markham
Date: 12 June 1999

leaving

I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have
live in and loved and where all your yesterdays are buried
deep - - leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest
way you can.  Never turn back and never believe that an 
hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead.  Passed
years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in
a cloud, formidable from a distance.  The cloud clears as you
enter it.  I have learned this, but like everyone, I learned it
late.