O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you, you express me better than I can express myself.

I will write the evangel-poem of comrades and of love.

I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked.

Will you seek afar off? You surely come back at last, In things best known to you, finding the best, or as good as the best, In folks nearest to you finding the sweetest, strongest, lovingest; Happiness, knowledge, not in another place, but this place-not for another hour, but this hour.

The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections.

To the real artist in humanity, what are called bad manners are often the most picturesque and significant of all.

We were together. I forget the rest.