My Dear Father; My Dear Friend; The

It Seems To Me Like Stealing, For Men And Women To Live In The World And Do Nothing To Make It Better.

A Harbor, Even If It Is A Little Harbor, Is A Good Thing, Since Adventurers Come Into It As Well As Go Out, And The Life In It Grows Strong, Because It Takes Something From The World, And Has Something To Give In Return.

There Is Something Out Of Gear About Graded Schools And All That. Memory Is Developed At The Expense Of What In General We Are Pleased To Call Thought And Character.

In The Life Of Each Of Us, I Said To Myself, There Is A Place Remote And Islanded, And Given To Endless Regret Or Secret Happiness; We Are Each The Uncompanioned Hermit And Recluse Of An Hour Or A Day; We Understand Our Fellows Of The Cell To Whatever Age Of History They May Belong.

So We Die Before Our Own Eyes; So We See Some Chapters Of Our Lives Come To Their Natural End.