History Marched To The Drums Of A

Private Faces In Public Places Are Wiser And Nicer Than Public Faces In Private Places.

Literary Confessors Are Contemptible, Like Beggars Who Exhibit Their Sores For Money, But Not So Contemptible As The Public That Buys Their Books.

A Poet's Hope: To Be, Like Some Valley Cheese, Local, But Prized Elsewhere.

And None Will Hear The Postman’s Knock Without A Quickening Of The Heart. For Who Can Bear To Feel Himself Forgotten?

Get Up Very Early And Get Going At Once. In Fact, Work First And Wash Afterwards.