Everyone In The World Is Christ And

Would It Not Be Better To Have It Understood That Realism, In So Far As The Word Means Reality To Life, Is Always Bad Art -- Although It May Possibly Be Very Good Journalism?

Would It Not Be Better To Have It Understood That Realism, In So Far As The Word Means Reality To Life, Is Always Bad Art -- Although It May Possibly Be Very Good Journalism?

Love Is Like A Wind Stirring The Grass Beneath Trees On A Black Night,' He Had Said. 'you Must Not Try To Make Love Definite. It Is The Divine Accident Of Life. If You Try To Be Definite And Sure About It And To Live Beneath The Trees, Where Soft Night Winds Blow, The Long Hot Day Of Disappointment Comes Swiftly And The Gritty Dust From Passing Wagons Gathers Upon Lips Inflamed And Made Tender By Kisses.

From Being Quite Sure Of Himself And His Future He Becomes Not At All Sure. If He Be An Imaginative Boy A Door Is Torn Open And For The First Time He Looks Out Upon The World, Seeing, As Though They Marched In Procession Before Him, The Countless Figures Of Men Who Before His Time Have Come Out Of Nothingness Into The World, Lived Their Lives And Again Disappeared Into Nothingness. The Sadness Of Sophistication Has Come To The Boy.

It Has Long Been My Desire To Be A Little Worm In The Fair Apple Of Progress.