Oh, That's The Beauty Of The Rose,

Personal Life Becomes Paler As The Imaginative Life Becomes Richer.

Winter Lies Too Long In Country Towns; Hangs On Until It Is Stale And Shabby, Old And Sullen.

Nearly All The Escapists In The Long Past Have Managed Their Own Budget And Their Social Relations So Unsuccessfully That I Wouldn't Want Them For My Landlords, Or My Bankers, Or My Neighbors. They Were Valuable, Like Powerful Stimulants, Only When They Were Left Out Of The Social And Industrial Routine.

Today I Stood Taller From Walking Among The Trees.

Most Of The Basic Material A Writer Works With Is Acquired Before The Age Of Fifteen.