...i Returned To Walking Up The Mountain,

The Streets Of New York And Some Wards Of Its Venerable Institutions Were Packed With People Who, Despite Being Entirely Forsaken, Had Episodes Of Glory That Made The Career Of Alexander The Great Seem Like A Day In The Life Of A File Clerk.

How The Holy And The Profane Mix In The Light Of Day And At The End Of Life Is Sometimes The Most Beautiful Thing In This World And A Compassionate Entry Into The Next. After Failure And Defeat, A Concentration Upon Certain Beauties, Though Forever Lost And Unretrievable, Can Lift The Wounded Past Roundedness And The Dying Past Dying, Protecting Them With An Image, Still And Bright, That Will Ride With Them On Their Long Ride, Never To Fade And Never To Retreat.

I Made A Boy's Mistake, Common Enough, Of Thinking That Real Life Was Knowing Many Things And Many People, Living Dangerously In Faraway Places, Crossing The Sea, Or Starting A Power Company On The Columbia River, A Steamship Line In Bolivia.

Particularly As A Jew, I Don't Like Missionary Work. I've Had It Focused On Me, And I Don't Like It. Let People Be What They Want To Be.

And They'll Vote For Me Because I'm The Best Liar, Because I Do It Honestly, With A Certain Finesse. They Know That Lies And Truth Are Very Close, And That Something Beautiful Rests Between.