Children Are Unaccountable Little Creatures.

I Am Treating You As My Friend, Asking You To Share My Present Minuses In The Hope That I Can Ask You To Share My Future Plusses.

The Fields Are Snowbound No Longer; There Are Little Blue Lakes And Flags Of Tenderest Green. The Snow Has Been Caught Up Into The Sky- So Many White Clouds-and The Blue Of The Sky Is Cold. Now The Sun Walks In The Forest, He Touches The Bows And Stems With His Golden Fingers; They Shiver, And Wake From Slumber. Over The Barren Branches He Shakes His Yellow Curls. Yet Is The Forest Full Of The Sound Of Tears.... A Wind Dances Over The Fields. Shrill And Clear The Sound Of Her Waking Laughter, Yet The Little Blue Lakes Tremble And The Flags Of Tenderest Green Bend And Quiver.

I Love The Night. I Love To Feel The Tide Of Darkness Rising, Slowly And Slowly Washing, Turning Over And Over, Lifting, Floating, All That Lies Strewn Upon The Dark Beach, All That Lies Hid In Rocky Hollows.

What Do You Want Most To Do? That's What I Have To Keep Asking Myself, In The Face Of Difficulties.

I Want So To Live That I Work With My Hands And My Feeling And My Brain. I Want A Garden, A Small House, Grass, Animals, Books, Pictures, Music. And Out Of This, The Expression Of This, I Want To Be Writing (though I May Write About Cabmen. That’s No Matter.) But Warm, Eager, Living Life — To Be Rooted In Life — To Learn, To Desire, To Feel, To Think, To Act. This Is What I Want. And Nothing Less. That Is What I Must Try For.