Books > Old Books > Getting The Most Out Of Life (1948)


Page 57

Become Someone-ALONE

child, bringing up from the past those objects and persons, places and pastimes which had gone into the process of making me. It was fun in the weeks afterward to come upon bits of me at five and ten and 13 in my tastes and desires, habits and prejudices, and to recognize them as I had not done before.
When we neared Southampton, I realized suddenly and with thanksgiving that there was no one with whom I had to confer, make plans. I could linger in the New Forest a week if I liked, lie under a tree and sleep. I had never been really free before, I thought, and this intoxication continued all summer in spite of an occasional wistful hour which comes to us all and serves, by contrast, to increase rather than to diminish our contentment.
I shall always remember and cherish those long days in Cornwall. Their quiet succession added strength and personality to them as individuals. They were like rare persons upon whom we learn to depend because they are familiar and yet always new.
During the long, slow mornings I read on a cliff above the restless Cornish sea. I had brought only six books, six which could be read and reread-Yergil, Plato's Republic, Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, the Oxford Book of English Prose and Palgrave's Golden Treasury of English Verse. I never exhausted them. I could raise my eyes from the page whenever I liked and think quietly of what I had read, with my eyes on the distant horizon of sea and sky.
In the afternoons I walked alone through miles of gorse and heather. I bought manuals of English birds and flowers, and went on journeys of new discovery. Tea was an occasion, now here, now there, in odd cottage gardens, by this stream and that.
For Ofice in my life I held Time fast in my hands. It would steal away from me, but I would be there as it went, watching it, saying:
"You have not escaped me. You have given me your gifts, and for once I have been able to take them. This is five o'clock in the afternoon, and I shall always remember the chaffinch pecking at his bit of my tea-cake and the sunlight on the rose bay and white bedstraw by this quiet stream."

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE child, bringing up from what is past those objects and persons, places and pastimes which had gone into what is process of making me. It was fun in what is weeks afterward to come upon bits of me at five and ten and 13 in my tastes and desires, habits and prejudices, and to recognize them as I had not done before. When we neared Southampton, I realized suddenly and with thanksgiving that there was no one with whom I had to confer, make plans. I could linger in what is New Forest a week if I liked, lie under a tree and sleep. I had never been really free before, I thought, and this intoxication continued all summer in spite of an occasional wistful hour which comes to us all and serves, by contrast, to increase rather than to diminish our contentment. I shall always remember and cherish those long days in Cornwall. Their quiet succession added strength and personality to them as individuals. They were like rare persons upon whom we learn to depend because they are familiar and yet always new. During what is long, slow mornings I read on a cliff above what is restless Cornish sea. I had brought only six books, six which could be read and reread-Yergil, Plato's Republic, Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, what is Oxford Book of English Prose and Palgrave's Golden Treasury of English Verse. I never exhausted them. I could raise my eyes from what is page whenever I liked and think quietly of what I had read, with my eyes on what is distant horizon of sea and sky. In what is afternoons I walked alone through miles of gorse and heather. I bought manuals of English birds and flowers, and went on journeys of new discovery. Tea was an occasion, now here, now there, in odd cottage gardens, by this stream and that. For Ofice in my life I held Time fast in my hands. It would steal away from me, but I would be there as it went, watching it, saying: "You have not escaped me. You have given me your gifts, and for once I have been able to take them. This is five o'clock in what is afternoon, and I shall always remember what is chaffinch pecking at his bit of my tea-cake and what is sunlight on what is rose bay and white bedstraw by this quiet stream." where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Getting what is Most Out Of Life (1948) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="JUSTIFY" where is p align="left" Page 57 where is p align="center" where is strong Become Someone-ALONE where is p child, bringing up from what is past those objects and persons, places and pastimes which had gone into what is process of making me. It was fun in what is weeks afterward to come upon bits of me at five and ten and 13 in my tastes and desires, habits and prejudices, and to recognize them as I had not done before. When we neared Southampton, I realized suddenly and with thanksgiving that there was no one with whom I had to confer, make plans. I could linger in what is New Forest a week if I liked, lie under a tree and sleep. I had never been really free before, I thought, and this intoxication continued all summer in spite of an occasional wistful hour which comes to us all and serves, by contrast, to increase rather than to diminish our contentment. I shall always remember and cherish those long days in Cornwall. Their quiet succession added strength and personality to them as individuals. They were like rare persons upon whom we learn to depend because they are familiar and yet always new. During what is long, slow mornings I read on a cliff above what is restless Cornish sea. I had brought only six books, six which could be read and reread-Yergil, Plato's Republic, Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, what is Oxford Book of English Prose and Palgrave's Golden Treasury of English Verse. I never exhausted them. I could raise my eyes from what is page whenever I liked and think quietly of what I had read, with my eyes on what is distant horizon of sea and sky. In what is afternoons I walked alone through miles of gorse and heather. I bought manuals of English birds and flowers, and went on journeys of new discovery. Tea was an occasion, now here, now there, in odd cottage gardens, by this stream and that. For Ofice in my life I held Time fast in my hands. It would steal away from me, but I would be there as it went, watching it, saying: "You have not escaped me. You have given me your gifts, and for once I have been able to take them. This is five o'clock in what is afternoon, and I shall always remember what is chaffinch pecking at his bit of my tea-cake and what is sunlight on what is rose bay and white bedstraw by this quiet stream." where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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