Large, Musing Eyes, Neither Joyous Nor Sorry.

Don't Get Me Wrong-painting's All Right. But Now That We Have Photography, What's The Point?

Books Are Men Of Higher Stature.

How Many Desolate Creatures On The Earth Have Learnt The Simple Dues Of Fellowship And Social Comfort, In A Hospital.

Suddenly, As Rare Things Will, It Vanished.

I Begin To Think That None Are So Bold As The Timid, When They Are Fairly Roused.