In The Woods We Return

Sometimes A Scream Is Better Than A Thesis.

It Is One Of The Blessings Of Old Friends That You Can Afford To Be Stupid With Them.

It Is Long Ere We Discover How Rich We Are. Our History, We Are Sure, Is Quite Tame: We Have Nothing To Write, Nothing To Infer. But Our Wiser Years Still Run Back To The Despised Recollections Of Childhood. . . .

Before A Leaf-bud Has Burst, Its Whole Life Acts; In The Full-blown Flower There Is No More; In The Leafless Root There Is No Less.

Who Leaves The Pine-tree, Leaves His Friend, Unnerves His Strength, Invites His End.