As A Whole Part Of "psychological Education"

Some People Get Where They Hope To In This World. Most Of Us Don't.

It Is The Middle And Pure Height And Whole Of Summer And A Summer Night, The Held Breath, Of A Planet's Year; High Shored Sleeps The Crested Tide: What Day Of The Month I Do Not Know, Which Day Of The Week I Am Not Sure, Far Less What Hour Of The Night.

Well, Now, Some People Learn A Little Quicker Than Others. It's Nice To Learn Fast But It's Nice To Take Your Time Too.

And Somewhat As In Blind Night, On A Mild Sea, A Sailor May Be Made Aware Of An Iceberg, Fanged And Mortal, Bearing Invisibly Near, By The Unwarned Charm Of Its Breath, Nothingness Now Revealed Itself: That Permanent Night Upon Which The Stars In Their Expiring Generations Are Less Than The Glinting Of Gnats, And Nebulae, More Trivial Than Winter Breath; That Darkness In Which Eternity Lies Bent And Pale, A Dead Snake In A Jar, And Infinity Is The Sparkling Of A Wren Blown Out To Sea; That Inconceivable Chasm Of Invulnerable Silence In Which Cataclysms Of Galaxies Rave Mute As Amber.

As Small, Quick, Foolproof Cameras Became Generally Available, Moreover, The Camera Has Been Used So Much And So Flabbily By So Many People That It Has Acted As A Sort Of Contraceptive On The Ability To See.