A Stoic Of The Woods,--a Man Without

A Man Who Will Not Leave His Room Because He Does Not Know How, Or Is Afraid To Open The Door, Is Trapped Just The Same Whether Or Not The Door Is Locked.

The Popularity Of That Baby-faced Boy, Who Possessed Not Even The Elements Of A Good Actor, Was A Hallucination In The Public Mind, And A Disgrace To Our Theatrical History.

The Being Level Speaks The Language Of Art, Music, Color Shape And Pattern Directly -- A Language That Requires No Words -- Is Not Limited By Words -- Nor Does It Have The Specificity Of Words And Thus Cannot Be Broken Onto Parts That Can Be Manipulated Or Analyzed By The Intellect. It Must Be Swallowed, Whole Not Parsed, Sorted And Justified.

The Proud, The Cold Untroubled Heart Of Stone, That Never Mused On Sorrow But Its Own.

O Leave This Barren Spot To Me! Spare, Woodman, Spare The Beechen Tree.