You Can't Change A Man, No-ways. By

Personal Publicity Is Apt To Be Dangerous To Any Writer's Integrity; For The Moment He Begins To Fancy Himself As Quite A Person, A Taint Creeps Into His Work.

Sift Each Of Us Through The Great Sieve Of Circumstance And You Have A Residue, Great Or Small As The Case May Be, That Is The Man Or The Woman.

To Comfort Any Mortal Against Loneliness, One Other Is Enough.

Magic Birds Were Dancing In The Mystic Marsh. The Grass Swayed With Them, And The Shallow Waters, And The Earth Fluttered Under Them. The Earth Was Dancing With The Cranes, And The Low Sun, And The Wind And Sky.

No Man Should Have Proprietary Rights Over Land Who Does Not Use That Land Wisely And Lovingly.