Transport Of The Mails, Transport

I Don't Understand These People Anymore, That Travel The Commuter-trains To Their Dormitory Towns. These People That Call Themselves Human, But, By A Pressure They Do Not Feel, Are Forced To Do Their Work Like Ants. With What Do They Fill Their Time When They Are Free Of Work On Their Silly Little Sundays? I Am Very Fortunate In My Profession. I Feel Like A Farmer, With The Airstrips As My Fields. Those That Have Once Tasted This Kind Of Fare Will Not Forget It Ever. Not So, My Friends?

There Is A Cheap Literature That Speaks To Us Of The Need Of Escape. It Is True That When We Travel We Are In Search Of Distance. But Distance Is Not To Be Found. It Melts Away. And Escape Has Never Led Anywhere. The Moment A Man Finds That He Must Play The Races, Go The Arctic, Or Make War In Order To Feel Himself Alive, That Man Has Begin To Spin The Strands That Bind Him To Other Men And To The World. But What Wretched Strands! A Civilization That Is Really Strong Fills Man To The Brim, Though He Never Stir. What Are We Worth When Motionless, Is The Question.

A Sky As Pure As Water Bathed The Stars And Brought Them Out.

Love, Like A Carefully Loaded Ship, Crosses The Gulf Between The Generations.

Make Your Life A Dream, And A Dream A Reality.