Space ails us moderns: we are sick with space.

Always fall in with what you're asked to accept. Take what is given, and make it over your way. My aim in life has always been to hold my own with whatever's going. Not against: with.

I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree~ And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again. That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

Not yesterday I learned to know The love of bare November days Before the coming of the snow.

Far more violence has been done in obeying the law than in breaking the law.

I end not far from my going forth By picking the faded blue Of the last remaining aster flower To carry again to you.

They would not find me changed from him they knew - only more sure of all I thought was true.