If [america] Forgets Where She Came From,

I Had Taken A Course In Ethics. I Read A Thick Textbook, Heard The Class Discussions And Came Out Of It Saying I Hadn't Learned A Thing I Didn't Know Before About Morals And What Is Right Or Wrong In Human Conduct.

Under The Summer Roses When The Flagrant Crimson Lurks In The Dusk Of The Wild Red Leaves, Love, With Little Hands, Comes And Touches You With A Thousand Memories, And Asks You Beautiful, Unanswerable Questions.

When I Was Writing Pretty Poor Poetry, This Girl With Midnight Black Hair Told Me To Go On.

Let The Gentle Bush Dig Its Root Deep And Spread Upward To Split The Boulder.

I Knew I Would Read All Kinds Of Books And Try To Get At What It Is That Makes Good Writers Good. But I Made No Promises That I Would Write Books A Lot Of People Would Like To Read.