Love Has Earth To Which She Clings.

There Is Absolutely No Reason For Being Rushed Along With The Rush. Everybody Should Be Free To Go Slow.

Poets Need Not Go To Niagara To Write About The Force Of Falling Water.

Of All Crimes The Worst Is To Steal The Glory From The Great And Brave, Even More Accursed Than To Rob The Grave.

Some Spirit To Stand Simply Forth, Heroic In Its Nakedness, Against The Uttermost Of Earth.

(soft Petals, Yes, But Not So Barren Quite, Mingled With These, Smooth Bean And Wrinkled Pea;) And Go Along With You Ere You Lose Sight Of What You Came For And Become Like Me, Slave To A Springtime Passion For The Earth. How Love Burns Through The Putting In The Seed On Through The Watching For That Early Birth When, Just As The Soil Tarnishes With Weed, The Sturdy Seedling With Arched Body Comes Shouldering Its Way And Shedding The Earth Crumbs.