There Is No Song To Your Singing.

I Have In Later Years Taken To Euclid, Whitehead, Bertrand Russell, In An Elemental Way.

Time Is A Great Teacher, Who Can Live Without Hope?

Life Is Like An Onion. You Peel It Off One Layer At A Time, And Sometimes You Weep.

Lips Half-willing In A Doorway. Lips Half-singing At A Window. Eyes Half-dreaming In The Walls. Feet Half-dancing In A Kitchen. Even The Clocks Half-yawn The Hours And The Farmers Make Half-answers.

I Glory In This World Of Men And Women, Torn With Troubles, Yet Living On To Love And Laugh Through It All.