America Has Enjoyed The Doubtful Blessing Of

. . . Every Tree Near Our House Had A Name Of Its Own And A Special Identity. This Was The Beginning Of My Love For Natural Things, For Earth And Sky, For Roads And Fields And Woods, For Trees And Grass And Flowers; A Love Which Has Been Second Only To My Sense Of Enduring Kinship With Birds And Animals, And All Inarticulate Creatures.

Doesn't All Experience Crumble In The End To Mere Literary Material?

That Was The Worst Of Being Poor, You Couldn't Give The Right Things In Sickness.

There Are Times When Life Surprises One, And Anything May Happen, Even What One Had Hoped For.

It Is Wiser To Be Conventionally Immoral Than Unconventionally Moral. It Isn't The Immorality They Object To, But The Originality.