We Belong To The Race That Knows

I Wonder What A Soul…a Person's Soul…would Look Like,' Said Priscilla Dreamily. 'like That, I Should Think,' Answered Anne, Pointing To A Radiance Of Sifted Sunlight Streaming Through A Birch Tree. 'only With Shape And Features Of Course. I Like To Fancy Souls As Being Made Of Light. And Some Are All Shot Through With Rosy Stains And Quivers…and Some Have A Soft Glitter Like Moonlight On The Sea…and Some Are Pale And Transparent Like Mist At Dawn.

Desire Grows By What It Feeds On.

Don't Be Led Away By Those Howls About Realism. Remember-pine Woods Are Just As Real As Pigsties And A Darn Sight Pleasanter To Be In.

Don't You Just Love Poetry That Gives You A Crinkly Feeling Up And Down Your Back?

If You Can Sit In Silence With A Person For Half An Hour And Yet Be Entirely Comfortable, You And That Person Can Be Friends. If You Cannot, Friends You'll Never Be And You Need Not Waste Time In Trying.