Today I Stood Taller From Walking Among

There Is A Popular Superstition That "realism" Asserts Itself In The Cataloguing Of A Great Number Of Material Objects, In Explaining Mechanical Processes, The Methods Of Operating Manufactories And Trades, And In Minutely And Unsparingly Describing Physical Sensations. But Is Not Realism, More Than It Is Anything Else, An Attitude Of Mind On The Part Of The Writer Toward His Material, A Vague Indication Of The Sympathy And Candour With Which He Accepts, Rather Than Chooses, His Theme?

Religion And Art Spring From The Same Root And Are Close Kin.

In Haverford On The Platte The Townspeople Still Talk Of Lucy Gayheart.

A Soup Like This Is Not The Work Of One Man. It Is The Result Of A Constantly Refined Tradition. There Are Nearly A Thousand Years Of History In This Soup.

On The Farm The Weather Was The Great Fact, And Men's Affairs Went On Underneath It, As The Streams Creep Under The Ice.