What I do is me, for that I came.

Searching nature I taste self but at one tankard, that of my own being.

All the world is full of inscape and chance left free to act falls into an order as well as purpose.

Your personal boundaries protect the inner core of your identity and your right to choices.

Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the Stooks arise Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behavior Of silk-sack clouds! Has wilder, willful-waiver Meal-drift molded ever and melted across skies?

Horrible to say, in a manner I am a Communist.

The effect of studying masterpieces is to make me admire and do otherwise.