Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.

I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken

Vast and grey, the sky is a simulacrum to all but him whose days are vast and grey and— In the tall, dried grasses

SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire

The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail

You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich

It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for

My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.

The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,

Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our nonentites stirs me to it:

This is a schoolyard crowded with children of all ages near a village on a small stream

Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows

Sooner or later we must come to the end of striving to re-establish the image the image of

This particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pe...