Love Isn't Blind; It's Only Love That

Wrecked On The Lee Shore Of Age.

It Does Seem So Pleasant To Talk With An Old Acquaintance Who Knows What You Know. I See So Many New Folks Nowadays Who Seem To Have Neither Past Nor Future. Conversation Has Got To Have Some Root In The Past, Or Else You Have Got To Explain Every Remark You Make, And It Wears A Person Out.

You Must Find Your Own Quiet Center Of Life, And Write From That To The World.

Write It As It Is, Don't Try To Make It Like This Or That. You Can't Do It In Anybody Else's Way-you Will Have To Make A Way Of Your Own.

To Let God Make Us, Instead Of Painfully Trying To Make Ourselves; To Follow The Path That His Love Shows Us, Instead Of Through Conceit Or Cowardice Or Mockery Choosing Another; To Trust Him For Our Strength And Fitness As The Flowers Do, Simply Giving Ourselves Back To Him In Grateful Service,—this Is To Keep The Laws That Give Us The Freedom Of The City In Which There Is No Longer Any Night Of Bewilderment Or Ignorance Or Uncertainty.