It Takes Me Several Days, After I

The World Is Always Ready To Receive Talent With Open Arms. Very Often It Does Not Know What To Do With Genius.

To Brag Little, To Lose Well, / To Crow Gently If In Luck, / To Pay Up, To Own Up, / To Shut Up If Beaten, / Are The Virtues Of A Sportingman.

To Us Who Remain Behind Is Left This Day Of Memories. Every Year--in The Full Tide Of Spring, At The Height Of The Symphony Of Flowers And Love And Life--there Comes A Pause, And Through The Silence We Hear The Lonely Pipe Of Death.

Why Should You Row A Boat Race? Why Endure The Long Months Of Pain In Preparation For A Fierce Half Hour That Will Leave You All But Dead? Does Anyone Ask The Question? Is There Anyone Who Would Not Go Through All The Costs, And More, For The Moment When Anguish Breaks Into Triumph Or Even For The Glory Of Having Nobly Lost? Is Life Less Than A Boat Race? If A Man Will Give The Blood In His Body To Win The One, Will He Spend All The Might Of His Soul To Prevail In The Other?

The Ideas Of The Classics, So Far As Living, Are Our Commonplaces. It Is The Modern Books That Give Us The Latest And Most Profound Conceptions. It Seems To Me Rather A Lazy Makeshift To Mumble Over The Familiar.