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Page 17 text:
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,... ,J nf I , -W 1' ff y i. s pl X3 J mf 3 9 C-17 W ag , 'A if , Y f I lflslali 1 A Iii: ,1 I QW- f-4 af f ' 'mower , I , ki . ! 'I I 0 O1 I ,N SATURDAY . . . Another dance. Ugh! Why can't they realize f, I 'I that I'm different? I tried to bury myself under the pillows of QI Ni, v the powder room, but they dragged me out on the floor to meet , X N -un some loathsome boys. One of the revolting creatures asked me AWK to dance. What could I do? Finally I came down to the canal I 1 to meditate. Oh, diary, when will it ever end? Dances, lipstick, H - cigarette smoke, boys-ugh. 3 fi 4 SUNDAY . . . I have come to the conclusion that I am not much Xx x longexl for this world. Nobody understands me. I shall pine away ' I M I to a romantic end. ' f p MONDAY . . . Tonight as I looked out over the garage roofs ' - X f fl . llf we lived in the city I could look out over the tenements, oh ig? , Y' KX i heavenslj I felt as if I was growing. Maybe it's because they're , . Nl remodeling the house across the street. , TUESDAY . . . Oh diary, at last. Fate has sent me a friend. His X24 ' H I U name is Wilfred, and Oh diary, he understands me. We met in the ' library when we both reached for the same book on philosophy. Wilfred, too, loves to he alone, but he goes down under the bridge, which is why I have never seen him at the canal. WEDNESDAY . . . Wonderful forty minutes again today. Wilfred is just perfect. His father is a funeral director, and Wilfred says he'll take me to a funeral. Today Wilfred and I talked about the war. I felt like writing a story in which the heroine jumps off a bridge, but I have written six of them already. THURSDAY . . . Oh diary-at last, no more of those disgusting dances. As I looked out across the garages tonight I felt that I had grown again, but perhaps it's only that they are adding a new wing to the school. I've decided not to pine away after all. Wilfred and I are going to start learning the undertaking business. -Harriette Siegel a l H
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Page 16 text:
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-111'-' :L-' 1 f ...Q To the Monarchs of the Earth -Ellen Klein Hear us, monarchs of the earth, Little voices, every one. Above your arguments of state, 1 Hear the battle, not yet won. Hear us, stiff-necked, white-starched statesmeng Hear our desperate cry, our plea, As we watch you struggle for power While losing our liberty. The roaring tides swell mightily As they leap for the fiery cloud. But the horror of twisted steel below ' Turns the white'fQJ a shroud: Soar slowly in the airg But seeing the firefspitting birds, Sink slowly in despair. n ff j L Great white birds circle, I We are tired, the little people.W- li We have died, but weive risen anew. I And as smoke leaves the scarlet heavens, We strain to see heavens of blue. k The masses are surging forward , And through the warm spring earth X The flowers are bursting above the graves, Y The world sings its song of rebirth. il Oh age of atomic destruction, ,cf Oh, age of a sweet-bEath of life, In your right h6l you hold golden freedom, In H 165, you hold greediness, strife. L ,il di. In we temple of liberty, monarchs, ls I F 'V I v .. 2 .-r , ' i - il.. If T-f I f Y i -I---is T -- - 'Nf e- 11' . n., s - Gif - nie-ii f -A ' . El1l A N , i f 152 K lylfi Egg W X X ' ff X fzgj, .....- ,Youfmfiie people's priests. 5-can and you must and you will win it now, 0ur treasure, the Kingdom of Peace. i -ii - X ,,' -... Q-Z -Q C
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Page 18 text:
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. K .Q , -5 CJ Z Riino, I X! F' R996 f 7 xi' -Albert Collin 'I lt's Spring, and all over the countryside plant life is bursting out into myriads of color. Birds building their nests chirp and sing merrily as they work unceas- ingly. The overly pleasant laughter of young folks is drowned in the hissing riptide of business. School is a necessary evil in these times. Careless fishermen languidly toss their lines into depths of sparkling water. They stare in dull-eyed admiration at the rings in the water caused by the disturbance. Artists journey to hidden spots of paradise to paint their way to greatness, to put the first rung in theii' ladder to successg and failing in this, they cheerfully ME- return to obscurity to wait for another call. Writers gaze at scenes of unparalleled .N beauty and try to pen their thoughts. Although they use as many glowing adjec- tives as ossible, the can never uite attairr the ho ed-for effect. -70' .1 9 The wind stirs the grass. ' qv It whips the flowers back and forth in gardens long cultivated. Q4 f ff: It blows through other sections not so pleasant, the volcanic 'Q' ash of Iwo Jima, Tarawa and Okinawa. KX Y It throws the palm trees into confusion. The sun, as yellow as Van Gogh saw and painted it in Arles, bums fiercely down. l 1 Humanit of all sizes, t es, and sha es, comes out of its collective hole at . Y YP P , . ' ,N night to frolic, sing, dance, and generally enjoy itself. Jive fans, pausing only I to mop sweated brows, swing their partners in the latest steps. Nothing has x changed greatly in Nature's eyes, .nothing. Its call is still as pregnant in meaning W as ever. In the fields of Europe, however, some can not hear the call. mf, bd 9 fy There, all is quiet, f 1.7! all is still. ,-E93 . f 1' Xu!! N a fqiqapgg v . ix U I X A -'wb-3 fs-A fra -4 fi N in S-XXX x I. V' 1 Li- i N,-11 1 A i ' Tile? ,ill UWM C ,X M, 2 A . W ..A 8 v I If X I . ALL'-X y-sL LQ A ,J ' L ll 's, ' 3 -1 , l S Hug, phfwqgg,-,ng-,Ry -I K I6
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