How can you live in Goshen said a friend from afar,
This wretched country town where folks talk little things all year and plant their cabbage by the moon?
Said I, I do not live in Goshen.
I eat here, sleep here, work here.
I live in Greece where Plato taught and Phidias carved, and Epictetus wrote.
I dwell in Italy where Cicero penned immortal lines and Dante sang undying songs.
Think not of my life as small because you see a puny place; I have my books, I have my dreams.
A thousand souls have left for me enchantment that transcends both time and place;
and so I live in paradise, not here.