Peace Is Indivisible, And The Surrounding World

Stranded In This Mill Town Railroad Yard While The Whole World Was Converging Elsewhere, We Seemed To Be Nothing But Children Playing Among Heroic Men.

Sarcasm Is The Protest Of The Weak.

The Summer Of 1943 At Exeter Was As Happy A Time As I Ever Had In My Life.

This Was The Tree, And It Seemed To Me Standing There To Resemble Those Men, The Giants Of Your Childhood, Whom You Encounter Years Later And Find That They Are Not Merely Smaller In Relation To Your Growth, But They Are Absolutely Smaller, Shrunken By Age. In This Double Demotion The Old Giants Have Become Pygmies While You Were Looking The Other Way.

Young People In My Generation Were Sort Of In Lockstep, And It Wasn't Just The '40s, Either. In The '30s And In The '50s It Was The Same. No One Ever Dropped Out Unless He Got Sick Or Got Kicked Out.