But The Moment A Bird

When The Bird And The Book Disagree, Believe The Bird.

I Discover That My Friends Think Only Of My Apparel, And Those Upon Whom I Have Conferred Acts Of Kindness Prefer To Remind Me Of My Errors.

How Could I Make A Little Book, When I Have Seen Enough To Make A Dozen Large Books?

There Is The Morass, Wherein You Plunge Up To Your Knees, Or The Walking Over The Stubborn, Dwarfish Shrubbery, Whereby One Treads Down The Forests Of Labrador; And The Unexpected Bunting Or Sylvia Which Perchance, And Indeed As If By Chance Alone, You Now And Then See Flying Before You, Or Hear Singing From The Ground Creeping Plant.

Poor France, Thy Fine Climate, Rich Vineyards, And The Wishes Of The Learned Avail Nothing; Thou Art A Destitute Beggar, And Not The Powerful Friend Thou Wert Represented To Me.