It's Hard To Get Into This World

Nor Is There Wanting In The Press Some Spirit To Stand Simply Forth, Heroic In It Nakedness, Against The Uttermost Of Earth. The Tale Of Earth's Unhonored Things Sounds Nobler There Than 'neath The Sun; And The Mind Whirls And The Heart Sings, And A Shout Greets The Daring One.

I Write To Find Out What I Didn't Know I Knew.

And Of Course There Must Be Something Wrong In Wanting To Silence Any Song.

Whose Woods These Are I Think I Know. His House Is In The Village Though; He Will Not See Me Stopping Here To Watch His Woods Fill Up With Snow.

I'd Just As Soon Play Tennis With The Net Down.