Tell no man anything, for no man listens Yet hold thy lips ready to speak. - Carl Sandburg

Now I am here - now read me - give me a name.

"I HAVE ransacked the encyclopedias
And slid my fingers among topics and titles
Looking for you.

And the answer comes slow.
There seems to be no answer.
Old-fashioned Requited Love"

I shall ask the next banana peddler the who and the why of it.

Or — the iceman with his iron tongs gripping a clear cube in summer sunlight — maybe he will know.

His books were part of him. Each year of his life, it seemed, his books became more and more a part of him. This room, thirty by twenty feet, and the walls of shelves filled with books, had for him the murmuring of many voices. In the books of Herodotus, Tacitus, Rabelais, Thomas Browne, John Milton, and scores of others, he had found men of face and voice more real to him than many a man he had met for a smoke and a talk.