Heaven Is Not Like Flying

All The Untidyactivity Continues, Awful But Cheerful.

I Am Sorry For People Who Can't Write Letters. But I Suspect Also That You And I ... Love To Write Them Because It's Kind Of Like Working Without Really Doing It.

Why Shouldn't We, So Generally Addicted To The Gigantic, At Last Have Some Small Works Of Art, Some Short Poems, Short Pieces Of Music [...], Some Intimate, Low-voiced, And Delicate Things In Our Mostly Huge And Roaring, Glaring World?

Icebergs Behoove The Soul (both Being Self-made From Elements Least Visible) To See Themselves: Fleshed, Fair, Erected, Indivisible.

The Art Of Losing Isn't Hard To Master.