It Is All Right You're

I Go About Looking At Horses And Cattle. They Eat Grass, Make Love, Work When They Have To, Bear Their Young. I Am Sick With Envy Of Them.

Dare To Be Strong And Courageous. That Is The Road. Venture Anything.

There Is A Note That Comes Into The Human Voice By Which You May Know Real Weariness. It Comes When One Has Been Trying With All His Heart And Soul To Think His Way Along Some Difficult Road Of Thought. Of A Sudden He Finds Himself Unable To Go On. Something Within Him Stops. A Tiny Explosion Takes Place. He Bursts Into Words And Talks, Perhaps Foolishly. Little Side Currents Of His Nature He Didn't Know Were There Run Out And Get Themselves Expressed. It Is At Such Times That A Man Boasts, Uses Big Words, Makes A Fool Of Himself In General.

As Time Passed And He Grew To Know People Better, He Began To Think Of Himself As An Extraordinary Man, One Set Apart From His Fellows. He Wanted Terribly To Make His Life A Thing Of Great Importance, And As He Looked About At His Fellow Men And Saw How Like Clods They Lived It Seemed To Him That He Could Not Bear To Become Also Such A Clod.

On The Trees Are Only A Few Gnarled Apples That The Pickers Have Rejected. They Look Like The Knuckles Of Doctor Reefy's Hands. One Nibbles At Them And They Are Delicious. Into A Little Round Place At The Side Of The Apple Has Been Gathered All Its Sweetness. One Runs From Tree To Tree Over The Frosted Ground Picking The Gnarled, Twisted Apples And Filling His Pockets With Them. Only The Few Know The Sweetness Of The Twisted Apples.