Artistic Growth Is, More Than It Is

Ugly Accidents Happen . . . Always Have And Always Will. But The Failures Are Swept Back Into The Pile And Forgotten. They Don`t Leave Any Lasting Scar In The World, And They Don`t Affect The Future. The Things That Last Are The Good Things. The People Who Forge Ahead And Do Something, They Really Count.

There Is Something Frank And Joyous And Young In The Open Face Of The Country. It Gives Itself Ungrudgingly To The Moods Of The Season, Holding Nothing Back.

If We Never Arrived Anywhere, It Did Not Matter. Between That Earth And That Sky I Felt Erased, Blotted Out. I Did Not Say My Prayers That Night: Here, I Felt What Would Be Would Be.

Every Individual Taste, Every Natural Appetite, Was Bridled By Caution. The People Asleep In Those Houses, I Thought, Tried To Live Like The Mice In Their Own Kitchens; To Make No Noise, To Leave No Trace, To Slip Over The Surface Of Things In The Dark.

The Test Of One's Decency Is How Much Of A Fight One Can Put Up After One Has Stopped Caring, And After One Has Found Out That One Can Never Please The People They Wanted To Please.