Verse Is Not Written, It Is Bled;

Poetry Is Ordinary Language Raised To The Nth Power.

A Barn With Cattle And Horses Is The Place To Begin Christmas; After All, That's Where The Original Event Happened, And That Same Smell Was The First Air That The Christ Child Breathed.

All Families Had Their Special Christmas Food. Ours Was Called Dutch Bread, Made From A Dough Halfway Between Bread And Cake, Stuffed With Citron And Every Sort Of Nut From The Farm - Hazel, Black Walnut, Hickory, Butternut.

I Knew About Holiness, Never Having Missed A Sunday-school Class Since I Started At Four Years. But If Jews Were Also Religious, How Could Our Neighbor With The Grease-grimy Shirt Use The Word 'damn' About Them?

The Corncob Was The Central Object Of My Life. My Father Was A Horse Handler, First Trotting And Pacing Horses, Then Coach Horses, Then Work Horses, Finally Saddle Horses. I Grew Up Around, On, And Under Horses, Fed Them, Shoveled Their Manure, Emptied The Mangers Of Corncobs.