And I lift my voice out of its vales of agony
And laugh in his face,
Mocking him with astonishment of wonder.
For he has denied;
And I have come so near, so near to knowing ...
Then as his hand touches me gently, I am drawn up from the lonely abysses,
And suffer him to lead me back into the green valleys of the living.
“True to Life”
Edith Wyatt
A recent sincere and beautiful greeting from Mr. John Galsworthy to The Little Review suggests that the creative artist and the creative critic in America may wisely heed a saying of de Maupassant about a writer “sitting down before an object until he has seen it in the way that he alone can see it, seen it with the part of him which makes him This man and not That.”