A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.

I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.

I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand God not in the least.

I see great things in baseball. It's our game - the American game.

So here I sit in the early candle-light of old age-I and my book-casting backward glances over out travel'd road.

Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space.

I wear my hat as I please, indoors or out.