They talk to me without embarrassment or awkwardness. Museums and art stores are also sources of pleasure and inspiration. As my finger tips trace line and curve, they discover the thought and emotion which the artist has portrayed. Now, however, I see the folly of attempting to hitch one's wagon to a star with a harness that does not belong to it. One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar.
Security is mostly superstitious.
It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing. The hands of those I meet are dumbly eloquent to me. The touch of some hands is an impertinence.