But The More Poetry One Reads The

What Can You Do If You Are Thirty And, Turning The Corner Of Your Own Street, You Are Overcome, Suddenly, By A Feeling Of Bliss - Absolute Bliss - As Though You'd Suddenly Swallowed A Bright Piece Of That Late Afternoon Sun And It Burned In Your Bosom, Sending Out A Little Shower Of Sparks Into Every Particle Into Every Finger And Toe?

Oh, Impossible. Fancy Cream Puffs So Soon After Breakfast. The Very Idea Made One Shudder. All The Same, Two Minutes Later Jose And Laura Were Licking Their Fingers With That Absorbed Inward Look That Only Comes From Whipped Cream.

Letters Are The Real Curse Of My Existence. I Hate To Write Them: I Have To. If I Don't, There They Are - The Great Guilty Gates Barring My Way.

How Idiotic Civilization Is! Why Be Given A Body If You Have To Keep It Shut Up In A Case Like A Rare, Rare Fiddle?

By Health I Mean The Power To Live A Full, Adult, Living, Breathing Life In Close Contact With... The Earth And The Wonders Thereof - The Sea - The Sun.