Man, It Is Not Thy Works, Which

Hunger Whets Everything, Especially Suspicion And Indignation.

There Is A Majesty And Mystery In Nature, Take Her As You Will. The Essence Of Poetry Comes Breathing To A Mind That Feels From Every Province Of Her Empire.

Contented Saturnine Human Figures, A Dozen Or So Of Them, Sitting Around A Large Long Table...perfect Equality Is To Be The Rule; No Rising Or Notice Taken When Anybody Enters Or Leaves. Let The Entering Man Take His Place And Pipe, Without Obligatory Remarks; If He Cannot Smoke...let Him At Least Affect To Do So, And Not Ruffle The Established Stream Of Things.

If You Look Deep Enough You Will See Music; The Heart Of Nature Being Everywhere Music.

Narrative Is Linear, But Action Has Breadth And Depth As Well As Height And Is Solid.