And I Had By Now Become Used

Our Longing Is Our Pledge, And Blessed Are The Homesick, For They Shall Come Home.

I Had Seen A Herd Of Buffalo, One Hundred And Twenty-nine Of Them, Come Out Of The Morning Mist Under A Copper Sky, One By One, As If The Dark And Massive, Iron-like Animals With The Mighty Horizontally Swung Horns Were Not Approaching, But Were Being Created Before My Eyes And Sent Out As They Were Finished.

The Divine Art Is The Story.

And Were My Faith So Strong That It Could Move Mountains, That Is The Mountain That I Would Make Come To Me.

It Is Impossible That A Town Will Not Play A Part In Your Life, It Does Not Even Make Much Difference Whether You Have More Good Or Bad Things To Say Of It, It Draws Your Mind To It, By A Mental Law Of Gravitation.