Just As There Is Nothing Between The

The Tender Evenlode That Makes Her Meadows Hush To Hear The Sound Of Waters Mingling In The Brakes, And Binds My Heart To English Ground. A Lovely River, All Alone, She Lingers In The Hills And Holds A Hundred Little Towns Of Stone, Forgotten In The Western Wolds.

Dear Grandmamma, With What We Give. We Humbly Pray That You May Live. For Many, Many Happy Years: Although You Bore Us All To Tears.

The Worship Of The Nation Has Been Able To Make Men Tolerate Under Its Authority What They Could Never Have Tolerated From Princes: A Submission To Rule, Which, Through Sumptuary Laws On Food And Drink, Through Conscription, Through A Cast-iron System Of Compulsory Instruction For All On State Ordered Lines, And Through A State Examination At The Gate Of Every Profession, Has Almost Killed The Citizen's Power To React Upon That Which Controls Him, And Has Almost Destroyed That Variety Which Is The Mark Of Life.

It Seems To Be Saying Perpetually; 'i Am The End Of The Nineteenth Century; I Am Glad They Built Me Of Iron; Let Me Rust.' ... It Is Like A Passing Fool In A Crowd Of The University, A Buffoon In The Hall; For All The Things In Paris Has Made, It Alone Has Neither Wits Nor Soul.

For One Thing, I Was No Longer Alone; A Man Is Never Alone With The Wind-and The Boat Made Three.