There`s a spring on the table-cloth; there`s my painting; I must move the tree to the middle; that matters—nothing else. Could she not hold fast to that, she asked herself, and not lose her temper, and not argue; and if she wanted revenge take it by laughing at him?
At the violet hour/when the eyes and back
Turn upward from the desk/when the human engine waits
Like a taxi throbbing waiting/
I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives/
The two girls looked at each other and shook their heads wearily. Seeing their indifference the father became angry. “I tell you it is something for you two to be thinking about,” he cried, glaring at them. “There is a big change coming here in America and in learning is the only hope of the coming generations.”
Heat generates to the ceiling. Vapor in the windows. The wild windows of other houses and Saturday night parties shining the spilling molten hot gold of real life. I`m sweating, the big athletic sweater is killing me, making me hot, wetfaced, sad at my own party.
I recall these scenes with a mixed feeling of pleasure and pain. At this time, I was so reduced by illness that I could seldom walk without reeling like a drunken man, and when I rose from my seat upon the ground, the landscape suddenly grew dim before my eyes, the trees and lodges seemed to sway to and fro, and the prairie to rise and fall like the swells of the ocean. Such a state of things is by no means enviable any where. In a country where a man`s life may at any moment depend on the strength of his arm, or it may be on the activity of his legs, it is more particularly inconvenient.