Thank you,” I said bravely, dropping the syllables cleanly, like marbles, and secretly full of the most pathetic pride imaginable. I had spoken to strangers.

And I won ’em back fair and square. So what are you going to do about it? Want to fight? Who wants the first bloody nose?

Success is a relative thing―and the victory of a boy at marbles is equal to the victory of an Octavius at Actium when measured by the scale of cosmic infinity.

A man with a full stomach and the respect of his fellows had no business to scold about anything that he might think to be wrong in the ways of the universe, or even with...

Who is that blond child laughing as he runs after his colored marbles? [my marbles]It’s meAnd who is the poet writing this poem?That blond child who laughed as he ran after his colored marbles