Realism, In So Far As

In Middle America Men Are Awakening. Like Awkward And Untrained Boys We Begin To Turn Toward Maturity And With Our Awakening We Hunger For Song. But In Our Towns And Fields There Are Few Memory Haunted Places. Here We Stand In Roaring City Streets, On Steaming Coal Heaps, In The Shadow Of Factories From Which Come Only The Grinding Roar Of Machines. We Do Not Sing But Mutter In The Darkness. Our Lips Are Cracked With Dust And With The Heat Of Furnaces. We But Mutter And Feel Our Way Toward The Promise Of Song.

People Keep On Getting Married. Evidently Hope Is Eternal In The Human Breast.

The Disease We All Have And That We Have To Fight Against All Our Lives Is ... The Disease Of Self.

Learn To Draw. Try To Make Your Hand So Unconsciously Adept That It Will Put Down What You Feel Without Your Having To Think Of Your Hands. Then You Can Think Of The Thing Before You.

I Know About Her, Although She Has Never Crossed My Path," He Said Softly. "i Know About Her Struggles And Her Defeats. It Is Because Of Her Defeats That She Is To Me The Lovely One. Out Of Her Defeats She Has Been Born A New Quality In Woman. I Have A Name For It. I Call It Tandy. I Made Up The Name When I Was A True Dreamer And Before My Body Became Vile. It Is The Quality Of Being Strong To Be Loved. It Is Something Men Need From Women And That They Do Not Get.