THE PLOTLESS LIFE 



THERE is one advantage that I have 

 when I let the tree top suggest my 

 thought and rule my imagination. 

 Time and space are as nothing. I 

 may be following the windings of a 

 stream between its banks of cat-tails 

 and rushes to-day to-morrow I may 

 be wandering across the prairie land 

 by farm and village and day after 

 to-morrow I may be listening to the 

 whistling bouy and bell by the sea. 

 If one has tired, he may lay down 

 the book and open it again days later, 

 at another place, and go on without 

 missing any thread of a narrative, for 

 there is none. 



Life has no plot, if it be right. 



[58] 



