It Is Not Often Given In A

Satisfaction, Even After One Has Dined Well, Is Not So Interesting And Eager A Feeling As Hunger.

Wrecked On The Lee Shore Of Age.

Life Was Resumed, And Anxious Living Blew Away As If It Had Not Been. I Could Not Breathe Deep Enough Or Long Enough. It Was A Return To Happiness.

This Was One Of Those Perfect New England Days In Late Summer Where The Spirit Of Autumn Takes A First Stealing Flight, Like A Spy, Through The Ripening Country-side, And, With Feigned Sympathy For Those Who Droop With August Heat, Puts Her Cool Cloak Of Bracing Air About Leaf And Flower And Human Shoulders.

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