If You Haven't Had Your Life What

Everything About Florence Seems To Be Colored With A Mild Violet, Like Diluted Wine.

You Seemed To Me To Be Soaring Far Up In The Blue - To Be Sailing In The Bright Light, Over The Heads Of Men. Suddenly Some One Tosses Up A Faded Rosebud - A Missile That Should Never Have Reached You - And Down You Drop To The Ground.

Her Reputation For Reading A Great Deal Hung About Her Like The Cloudy Envelope Of A Goddess In An Epic.

Young Men Of This Class Never Do Anything For Themselves That They Can Get Other People To Do For Them, And It Is The Infatuation, The Devotion, The Superstition Of Others That Keeps Them Going. These Others In Ninety-nine Cases Out Of A Hundred Are Women.

Always Keep A Window In The Attic Open; Not Just Cracked: Open.