Webb Schools - El Espejo Yearbook (Claremont, CA)

Page 186 text:

RICHARD MILLER Pleased to meet you Hope you guess my name But what s puzzliiii; you. Is the nature o] my game. Stones I think I will not hang myself today, lialladc ol Suicide Gilbert K. Chesterton . . . they have their entrances and exits. Shakespeare 182

Page 185 text:

MARC WILSON He could no longer distinguish the different voices . . . They alt belonged to each other: ... All of them together was the stream of events, the music of life. When Siddhartha listened attentively to this river, to this song of a thousand voices: when he did not hind his soul to any one particular voice and absorb it in his Self but heard them all. the whole, the unity: then the great song of a thousand voices consisted of one word: Om-perfeetion. Do you hear? asked Vasudeva ' s glance once again. Hermann Hesse 181

Page 187 text:

ROBERT MALLORY GILMORE The smoke of my breath. Echoes, ripples, buzz ' d whispers, lore-root, silk-thread, and vine. My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through mv lungs. The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of ike shore and dark-color ' d sea-rocks and of hay in the barn. The sound of belch d words of my voice loos ' d to the eddies of the wind, A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms. The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag. The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides. The feeling of health, the full-moon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun. An excerpt from Song of Myself , a poem by Walt Whitman 183