We Are Adhering To Life Now With

When Autumn Shadows Throw Their Patterns Across The Land, They Are Not The Images Of Fragile, Dying Leaves, Not The Bared Arms Of Lofty Elms, Not Shadows Of A Fading Summer; But Swinging Shapes As Of Books Upon A Strap, Of Round And Square Boxes Held Under An Arm, Of Hurrying Little People Heading Towards The Nearest School.

We Are Beginning To Wonder Whether A Servant Girl Hasn't The Best Of It After All. She Knows How The Salad Tastes Without The Dressing, And She Knows How Life's Lived Before It Gets To The Parlor Door.

One's Life Is Peculiar To One's Own When One Has Invented It.

Certainty Always Produces Questions, Uncertainty Statements. It Is A Balancing Law Of Nature.

And Must I, Perchance, Like Careful Writers, Guard Myself Against The Conclusions Of My Readers?