My Friends Plunged Into A Borderless Sea

In The Life Of Each Of Us, I Said To Myself, There Is A Place Remote And Islanded, And Given To Endless Regret Or Secret Happiness; We Are Each The Uncompanioned Hermit And Recluse Of An Hour Or A Day; We Understand Our Fellows Of The Cell To Whatever Age Of History They May Belong.

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.

Wrecked On The Lee Shore Of Age.

Such A Nice Day - Out All Day Up In The Carter Notch Direction, Trout-fishing, With The Long Drive There And The Long Drive Home Again In Time For Supper. It Was A Lovely Brook And I Caught Seven Good Trout And One Small One - Which Eight Trout-persons You Should Have For Your Breakfast If Only You Were Near Enough. It Was Not Alone The Fishing, But The Delightful Loneliness And Being Out Of Doors.

It Is Not Often Given In A Noisy World To Come To The Places Of Great Grief And Silence.