One Things There's No Getting By, I've

We Are All Ruled In What We Do By Impulses; And These Impulses Are So Organized That Our Actions In General Serve For Our Self Preservation And That Of The Race.

I Am All The Time Talking About You, And Bragging, To One Person Or Another. I Am Like The Ancient Mariner, Who Had A Tale In His Heart He Must Unfold To All. I Am Always Buttonholing Somebody And Saying, "someday You Must Meet My Mother."

There Is No Shelter In You Anywhere.

Beautiful As A Dandelion-blossom Golden In The Green Grass, This Life Can Be.

Upon This Gifted Age, In Its Dark Hour Falls From The Sky A Meteoric Shower Of Facts; They Lie Unquestioned, Uncombined. Wisdom Enough To Leech Us Of Our Ill Is Daily Spun, But There Exists No Loom To Weave It Into Fabric.