The grapes on a score of rolling hills are red with autumn flame. Across Sonoma Mountain wisps of sea fog are stealing. The afternoon sun smoulders in the drowsy sky. I have everything to make me glad I am alive. I am filled with dreams and mysteries. I am all sun and air and sparkle. I am vitalized, organic.

Denied the outlet, through play, of his energies, he recoiled upon himself and developed his mental processes. He became cunning; he had idle time in which to devote himself to thoughts of trickery.

Life is so short. I would rather sing one song than interpret the thousand.

A good joke will sell quicker than a good poem, and, measured in sweat and blood, will bring better remuneration.

The Stone the Builders Rejected.

They were not half living, or quarter living. They were simply so many bags of bones in which sparks of life fluttered faintly.

Everything is good . . . as long as it is unpossessed. Satiety and possession are Death's horses they run in span.