Once A Person Gave His Talent To

All Whispers And Echoes From A Past That Is Gone Teem Into The Sleeper's Brain, And He Is With Them, And Part Of Them.

I Thought Of All Those Heroines Of Fiction Who Looked Pretty When They Cried, And What A Contrast I Must Make With A Blotched And Swollen Face, And Red Rims To My Eyes.

...but I Should Say That Kindliness, And Sincerity, And If I May Say So--modesty--are Worth Far More To A Man, To A Husband, Than All The Wit And Beauty In The World.

The Urge To Climb Will Never Be Explained. In Olden Days, Perhaps It Was A Wish To Reach The Stars. Today, Anyone So Minded Can Buy A Seat On A Plane And Feel Himself Master Of The Skies. Even So, He Will Not Have Rock Under His Feet, Or Air Upon His Face; Nor Will He Know The Silence That Comes Only On The Hills.

Why Did Dogs Make One Want To Cry? There Was Something So Quiet And Hopeless About Their Sympathy. Jasper, Knowing Something Was Wrong, As Dogs Always Do. Trunks Being Packed. Cars Being Brought To The Door. Dogs Standing With Drooping Tails, Dejected Eyes. Wandering Back To Their Baskets In The Hall When The Sound Of The Car Dies Away.