It Is The People Who Can Do

Life Was Resumed, And Anxious Living Blew Away As If It Had Not Been. I Could Not Breathe Deep Enough Or Long Enough. It Was A Return To Happiness.

This Was One Of Those Perfect New England Days In Late Summer Where The Spirit Of Autumn Takes A First Stealing Flight, Like A Spy, Through The Ripening Country-side, And, With Feigned Sympathy For Those Who Droop With August Heat, Puts Her Cool Cloak Of Bracing Air About Leaf And Flower And Human Shoulders.

It Is Only Unimaginative Persons Who Can Be Really Astonished. The Imagination Can Always Outrun The Possible And Actual Sights And Sounds Of The World.

It Seems To Me Like Stealing, For Men And Women To Live In The World And Do Nothing To Make It Better.

Don't Scatter Your Fire! You Are A Prose Writer: Stick To Your Own Tool!