American writer (1876–1941)
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Song for Lonely Roads
Now let us understand each other, love,
Long time ago I crept off home,
To my own gods I went.
The tale is old,
It has been told
By many men in many lands.
The lands belong to those who tell.
Now surely that is clear.
After the plow had westward swept,
The gods bestowed the corn to stand.
Long, long it stood,
Strong, strong it grew,
To make a forest for new song.
Deep in the corn the bargain hard
Youth with the gods drove home.
The gods remember,
Youth forgets.
Doubt not the soul of song that waits.
The singer dies,
The singer lives,
The gods wait in the corn,
The soul of song is in the land.
Lift up your lips to that.
"Doctor Parcival began to plead with George Willard. "You must pay attention to me," he urged. "If something happens perhaps you will be able to write the book that I may never get written. The idea is very simple, so simple that if you are not careful you will forget it. It is this - that everyone in the world is Christ and they are all crucified. That's what I want to say. Don't you forget that. Whatever happens, don't you date let yourself forget.
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Eğer başıma bir şey gelirse, benim yazamadığım kitabı sen yazarsın belki. Fikir çok basit, o kadar basit ki, dikkat etmezsen unutabilirsin. Fikir şu -dünyadaki herkes İsa'nın ta kendisi ve bütün hepsi de çarmıhlara gerili. Anlatmak istediğim bu. Sakın unutma. Ne olursa olsun, bunu sakın unutayım deme.