What holy cities are to nomadic tribes - a symbol of race and a bond of union - great books are to the wandering souls of men: they are the Meccas of the mind.
G.E. Woodberry
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Biên tập viên
My Front Door Is
I'm doing something I don't understand
What I am doing, although I have planned
Out everything yesterday morning
I saw you walk by My front door is blue
How about you
Coming around to see me in the spring
Mattress on my bed, there's one sheet missing
Since last July, I don't know why
I let you walk right pass.
My front door is green. Have you seen
Anybody with a name
Should know how to spell
It unless he is insane
And I'm very well
Thank-you I do know how to knot my tie
Is covered completely with letters I
Owe to you I promise to pay you back should you
Pass My front door ready at last