The Winter Evening Settles Down

We Do Not Pass Twice Through The Same Door Or Return To The Door Through Which We Did Not Pass.

Writing Every Day Is A Way Of Keeping The Engine Running, And Then Something Good May Come Out Of It.

Now That Lilacs Are In Bloom She Has A Bowl Of Lilacs In Her Room And Twists One In Her Fingers While She Talks. "ah, My Friend, You Do Not Know, You Do Not Know What Life Is, You Who Hold It In Your Hands"; (slowly Twisting The Lilac Stalks) "you Let It Flow From You, You Let It Flow, And Youth Is Cruel, And Has No Remorse And Smiles At Situations Which It Cannot See." I Smile, Of Course, And Go On Drinking Tea.

To Country People Cows Are Mild, And Flee From Any Stick They Throw; But I’m A Timid Town Bred Child, And All The Cattle Seem To Know.

Good Poets Borrow, Great Poets Steal