Reason? That Dreary Shed, That Hutch For

Love Begets Love. This Torment Is My Joy.

Being, Not Doing, Is My First Joy.

The Damage Of Teaching: The Constant Contact With The Undeveloped.

So Much Of Adolescence Is An Ill-defined Dying, An Intolerable Waiting, A Longing For Another Place And Time, Another Condition.

A Too Explicit Elucidation In Education Destroys Much Of The Pleasure Of Learning. There Should Be Room For Sly Hinters, Masters Of Suggestion.