There's A Certain Slant Of Light, On

Nature Is A Haunted House--but Art--is A House That Tries To Be Haunted.

A Soft Sea Washed Around The House A Sea Of Summer Air And Rose And Fell The Magic Planks That Sailed Without A Care — For Captain Was The Butterfly For Helmsman Was The Bee And An Entire Universe For The Delighted Crew.

Exultation Is The Going Of An Inland Soul To Sea Past The Houses, Past The Headlands Into Deep Eternity! Bred As We, Among The Mountains Can The Sailor Understand The Divine Intoxication Of The First League Out From Land?

Nothing Is The Force That Renovates The World.

How Very Sad It Is To Have A Confiding Nature, One's Hopes And Feelings Are Quite At The Mercy Of All Who Come Along; And How Very Desirable To Be A Stolid Individual, Whose Hopes And Aspirations Are Safe In One's Waistcoat Pocket, And That A Pocket Indeed, And One Not To Be Picked!