But He Had Gone His Way, The

I Don't Like To See Things On Purpose. I Like Them To Soak In. A Friend . . . Asked Me To Go To The Top Of The Empire State Building Once, And I Told Him That He Shouldn't Treat New York As A Sight-it's Feeling, An Emotional Experience. And The Same With Every Place Else.

They Cannot Scare Me With Their Empty Spaces Between Stars—on Stars Where No Human Race Is. I Have It In Me So Much Nearer Home To Scare Myself With My Own Desert Places.

Fireflies In The Garden By Robert Frost 1874–1963 Here Come Real Stars To Fill The Upper Skies, And Here On Earth Come Emulating Flies, That Though They Never Equal Stars In Size, (and They Were Never Really Stars At Heart) Achieve At Times A Very Star-like Start. Only, Of Course, They Can't Sustain The Part.

The Style Is The Man. Rather Say The Style Is The Way The Man Takes Himself; And To Be At All Charming Or Even Bearable, The Way Is Almost Rigidly Prescribed. If It Is With Outer Seriousness, It Must Be With Inner Humor. If It Is With Outer Humor, It Must Be With Inner Seriousness. No Other Way Will Do.

I'm Not A Teacher, But An Awakener.