What Fools People Are When

You Look As If You Had Lived On Duty And It Hadn't Agreed With You.

I Suppose I Am A Born Novelist, For The Things I Imagine Are More Vital And Vivid To Me Than The Things I Remember.

. . . Every Tree Near Our House Had A Name Of Its Own And A Special Identity. This Was The Beginning Of My Love For Natural Things, For Earth And Sky, For Roads And Fields And Woods, For Trees And Grass And Flowers; A Love Which Has Been Second Only To My Sense Of Enduring Kinship With Birds And Animals, And All Inarticulate Creatures.

The Transcendental Point Of View, The Habit Of Thought Bred By Communion With Earth And Sky, Had Refined The Grain While It Had Roughened The Husk.

No, One Couldn't Make A Revolution, One Couldn't Even Start A Riot, With Sheep That Asked Only For Better Browsing.