I Do Not Understand How Anyone Can

Here In Florida The Seasons Move In And Out Like Nuns In Soft Clothing, Making No Rustle In Their Passing.

Somewhere Beyond The Sink-hole, Past The Magnolia, Under The Live Oaks, A Boy And A Yearling Ran Side By Side, And Were Gone Forever.

Life Is Strong Stuff, Some Of Us Can Bear More Of It Than Others.

People In General Are Totally Unable To Detach The Personality Of A Writer From The Products Of His Thinking.

It Seems To Me That The Earth May Be Borrowed But Not Bought. It May Be Used But Not Owned. We Are Tenants, Not Possessors, Lovers And Not Masters.