It Was A Morning In Early Summer.

As I Got Warmed Up, And Felt Perfectly At Home In Talk, I Heard Myself Boasting, Lying, Exaggerating. Oh, Not Deliberately, Far From It. It Would Be Unconvivial And Dull To Stop And Arrest The Flow Of Talk, And Speak Only After Carefully Considering Whether I Was Telling The Truth.

Pessimism Like Calumny Is Easy To Do, And Attracts Immediate Attention. The Gossiper And The Writer May Find This Out Soon Enough, And A Little Encouragement From The Current Mood Will Procure Them Successes That Bring Endless Imitators In Their Trail. On The Other Hand Saying Good Things About Life In General And Individuals In Particular And Making It Interesting Is A Serious Task Which Few Can Achieve With Credit.

It Was A Morning In Early Summer. A Silver Haze Shimmered And Trembled Over The Lime Trees. The Air Was Laden With Their Fragrance. The Temperature Was Like A Caress. I Remember - I Need Not Recall - That I Climbed Up A Tree Stump And Felt Suddenly Immersed In Itness. I Did Not Call It By That Name. I Had No Need For Words. It And I Were One.

Between Truth And The Search For It, I Choose The Second.

I Would I Could Stand On A Busy Corner, Hat In Hand, And Beg People To Throw Me All Their Wasted Hours.