A Man And His Tools Make A

I Worshipped Dead Men For Their Strength, Forgetting I Was Strong.

See The Last Orange Roses, How They Blow / Deeper And Heavier Than In Their Prime, / In One Defiant Flame Before They Go.

Women, Like Men, Ought To Have Their Years So Glutted With Freedom That They Hate The Very Idea Of Freedom.

One Must Be Businesslike, Although The Glass Is Falling.

[on Writing:] The Most Egotistic Of Occupations, And The Most Gratifying While It Lasts.