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December 02, 1923 - Image 17

Resource type:
Text
Publication:
The Michigan Daily, 1923-12-02

Disclaimer: Computer generated plain text may have errors. Read more about this.

2, 1923 THE MICHIC

NEWEL BEBOUT
HEAVEN 1""
If heaven be considered a state of "S" stands for Stork and for Swan.
I Both are living "S's" running on legs;
happiness, it is then relative and not for they have S shaped figures made
absolute; for happiness is a success-' by beak, neck and body.
ful struggling in which one's desires
find satisfaction. Thus heaven is a Books eat me up because they hate
state of strife, of war. me

"AN DAILY PAGE FIVE
They swallow me between gigantic clear-nature's shining mirror reflect-
covers. ing beauty.
They grind my mind into imperti- Cold, barren tree limbs long drench-
nent facts; and devour n'e sa- ed with rain are alive-alive with bril-
vagely. giant green things-leaves or maybe
Books eat me up because they hate worms.
me!'. Cocoons-lumps of dark, black, coal
But why do they hate me? soot are, touched by a magic wand.
Is it because I snub them, because Now they are butterilies, vivid yel-
I merely give them a glance lows and blues.
when they deserve to be read?
Perhaps!
CQUE STION

S ecurity
May be found for your valuable docu-
ments by using our Safety Deposit Vault.
The service will please you.
Farmers & Mechanics Bank
101.105 SOUTH MAIN 330 SOUTH STATE

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VIEW POINTS
Fragments of truth perceived
through a cloud of tiny fact particles:
this is the life picture of the prac-
tical man.
And contrary to this is the pano-
rama which lies before the poet who
from his pinnacle of philosophical
contemplation peers down into the
depths of actuality but fails to see the
facts which are hidden because over-
shadowed with more monstrous real-
ities.
Better by far than these men is the
glass-eyed fool who knows neither
falsity nor the opposite of falsity be-
cause he sees nothing at all.
PRHAVE A
Gray, oppressive snow clouds, som-
bre, dull are chased away over the
orizon-now the sky is splendidly

R es O si- A fault most commonly found with young college
graduates is a lack of responsibility. They fail to keep
bilit rpromises and appointments. They are unprepared to j
assume the responsibilities they under take.
A promise is a sacred thing and should be lived up to
implicitly. You have responsibilities here, doubtless
you live up to them largely, but nevertheless they will
be increased ten-fold when you start to work. Time
now to train yourself to assume them.
if you promise to have a thesis at a certain time, do it,
if you have to set up all night. If you borrow a dollar
from your room-mate, pay him back when you promise
to.
It is not only a matter of common decency which your
associates will appreciate, but it will distinguish you
from so many hundreds of others, who are somewhat
lax. You, too, will find just cause for pride in promptly
fulfilling your obligations. .
Shortly you will find your reputation for responsibility
an invaluable asset. The world will know you as a
man of your word in every way. You wiltnot need
to spend valuable time after you get out of college in
learning to assume responsibi
The Ann Arbor Savings Bank
THE STRONGEST BANK IN WASHTENAW COUNTY
TWO OFFICES: MAIN at HURON-707 NORTH UNIVERSITY

If men were born free would they
form no conception of good and evil as
long as they were free as Spinoza
says, or is good beyond selfishness?
OF A CERTAIN LYNX
At dusk one evening I sat on a rail
fence near where a cow-path wound
into a forest. There was no wind to
stir things up; and the umbrella-trees
and Osage-oranges appeared distor-
tioned in the shadowed light. Fur-
thermore all brooks and streams were
,ery far away and this combined with
the peculiar absence of singing birds
made the hour silent and quite still.
Not even owls were there, nor cawing
hawks, nor spiders: so I felt lonely
and in no mean way dejected. All I
could possibly do was now and then
to whistle a strain from a Wagnerian
opera lest melancholy hover close
upon me; but as the minutes passed
this, too, was appalling, so I stopped.
Perhaps my eyes blinked occasionally
with a weariness; but truly I do not
think this was so, for I was merely
still-and lonely.
All at once, however, I was startled
to perceive a silver coated lynx leis-
urely walking toward me down the
.cow-path with a queer-shaped 'book
under his *arm. He advanced with
careless steps and was noiseless; but
every moment drew closer. Now it
is not conventional for silver lynx
to walk upright on two feet; nor is it
their regular custom to bear great
tomes at their sides. It is no wonder
that I was amused by this lynx, and
seriously perplexed.
Especially was I aghast at the
strangeness of the shape of the book.
The lynx came near me slowly. Wlen
immediately by my side, he crossed
his slender legs and sat upon them;
and then he opened the fantastically
shaped book and melodiously read
aloud:
Gipsies are not brunette girls with
orange silk skirts ound to trim
waists with lavender girdles; nor
do they travel to foreign countries
in canvas covered wagons drawn by
mules. -Gipsies are exceptional
things. They are poor men's
thoughts which escape their toiling
bodies to roam the clover fields of
heaven. Follow the gipsies!"
"The moon is not a satellte whirl-
ing around the earth; for them it
would be a silly joke. The moon is
a great rond pie which God takes
a bite out of ever so often.- Con-
template the moon!"
"Snowflakes are tiny fairy palaces;
and bachelor-buttons are sneaking
gnomes in disguise. Dew is sprinkled
on grass-blades from slug-drawn
water tanks. And musie-charmed
snakes are writhing spirits of a
dance Crane-fies are made' out ot
green tooth-picks. Life As a: play
and the world Is a trick. Man is
a jack-in-the-box. Think about
man!"
Then the lynx, whose reading was
marvelously smooth, closed the e
oticaly shaped book, rose and hur-
ied back to the forest. And night
came and darkened everything.
Ureeus Exit Triolet
I intended an Ode
And it turned to a Sonnet-
It began a la mode
I intended an Ode
But Rose crossed the road
In her latest new bonnet;
I intended an Ode-
And it turned to a Sonnet!
-By Henry Austin Dobson.

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