I Have Read That During The Process

The Saints Differ From Us In Their Exuberance, The Excess Of Our Human Talents. Moderation Is Not Their Secret. It Is In The Wildness Of Their Dreams, The Desperate Vitality Of Their Ambitions, That They Stand Apart From Ordinary People Of Good Will.

The East Is A Montage. It Is Old And It Is Young, Very Green In Summer, Very White In Winter, Gregarious, Withdrawn And At Once Both Sophisticated And Provincial.

Scratch Any Father, You Find / Someone Chock-full Of Qualms And Romantic Terrors, / Believing Change Is A Threat.

Tomorrow Will Come And Today Will Pass, / But The Hearts Of The Young Are Brittle As Glass.

I Do Not Know Who First Invented The Myth Of Sexual Equality. But It Is A Myth Willfully Fostered And Nourished By Certain Semi-scientists And Other Fiction Writers. And It Has Done More, I Suspect, To Unsettle Marital Happiness Than Any Other False Doctrine Of This Myth-ridden Age.