Is there somewhere -anywhere- a little lonesome cabin lost among the forests on a wild, deserted shore; an empty little cabin: rough hewn, worn, and solid with a dandy drawing chimney, books, and windows – nothing more? I’m tired of noise and traffic, people pushing, phone and letters, dates and deadlines, styles and headlines, pride and pretense, nothing more; and I’m needing such a cabin, near God’s masterpiece of mountains – such a lost and lonesome cabin where a tired soul can adore.