Mary Cassatt Children Playing On The Beach painting

Mary Cassatt Children Playing On The Beach paintingMary Cassatt Tea paintingEdward Hopper Gas painting
people below there, in New Tammany alone -- each with his involvements and aspirations, strengths and weaknesses, past history and present problems -- I was to be their Tutor, show them the way to Commencement Gate?
"Fetches you up, now, don't it?" Greene demanded proudly. I shook my head, couldn't answer. He identified Tower Hall, its belfry floodlit in the distance, and pointed out the brilliant string of lights that followed the Power Line eastwards from that building to the Boundary and behind us to Founder's Hill -- the string whose other end I'd glimpsed from the Powerhouse. WESCAC was there -- the storied Belly, the awful EATer; and there too, somewhere beneath that high-spired dome, was the fabled Central Library and a certain particular booklift where my journey had begun. The ambiguous thrill brought tears to my eyes; I leaned down and touched Max's shoulder for comfort, and he briefly put his brooding by to share my feeling.
"Twenty years since I went over this hill," he said.
"Lots of things have changed since then," Greene said cheerfully. "They're all the time tearing down old ones and putting up new."