Sorrow Was Like The Wind. It Came

Sorrow Was Like The Wind. It Came In Gusts.

You Kin Tame A Bear. You Kin Tame A Wild-cat And You Kin Tame A Panther. ... You Kin Tame Arything, Son, Excusin' The Human Tongue.

The Test Of Beauty Is Whether It Can Survive Close Knowledge.

Readers Themselves, I Think, Contribute To A Book. They Add Their Own Imaginations, And It Is As Though The Writer Only Gave Them Something To Work On, And They Did The Rest.

Now He Understood. This Was Death. Death Was A Silence That Gave Back No Answer.