Outside The Sky Is Light With Stars

Can One Do Nothing For The Dead? And For A Long Time The Answer Had Been - Nothing!

Would You Not Like To Try All Sorts Of Lives - One Is So Very Small - But That Is The Satisfaction Of Writing - One Can Impersonate So Many People.

I Want So To Live That I Work With My Hands And My Feeling And My Brain. I Want A Garden, A Small House, Grass, Animals, Books, Pictures, Music. And Out Of This, The Expression Of This, I Want To Be Writing (though I May Write About Cabmen. That’s No Matter.) But Warm, Eager, Living Life — To Be Rooted In Life — To Learn, To Desire, To Feel, To Think, To Act. This Is What I Want. And Nothing Less. That Is What I Must Try For.

In The Woods Where Snow Is Thick, Bars Of Sunlight Lay Like Pale Fire.

How Hard It Is To Escape From Places. However Carefully One Goes They Hold You — You Leave Little Bits Of Yourself Fluttering On The Fences — Like Rags And Shreds Of Your Very Life.