“There is a certain age at which a child looks at you in all earnestness and delivers a long, pleased speech in all the true inflections of spoken English, but with not one recognizable syllable.”
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It's a little silly to finally learn how to write at this age. But I long ago realized I was secretly sincere.
A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time.
Appealing workplaces are to be avoided. One wants a room with no view, so imagination can meet memory in the dark.
As soon as beauty is sought not from religion and love, but for pleasure, it degrades the seeker.
