It Was Not Well To Drive Men

I Saw A Man Pursuing The Horizon;round And Round They Sped.i Was Disturbed At This;i Accosted The Man."it Is Futile," I Said,"you Can Never-""you Lie," He Cried,and Ran On.

Truth ... Is A Breath, A Wind, A Shadow, A Phantom; Long Have I Pursued It, But Never Have I Touched The Hem Of Its Garment.

Such An Assemblage Of The Spraddle-legged Men Of The Middle Class, Whose Hands Were Bent And Shoulders Stooped From Delving And Constructing, Had Never Appeared To An Asbury Park Summer Crowd, And The Latter Was Vaguely Amused.

He Saw That It Was An Ironical Thing For Him To Be Running Thus Toward That Which He Had Been At Such Pains To Avoid.

Half Of Tradition Is A Lie.