"Herald, boss ?" "You'll have to step lively, David Grayson," I said to myself, "if you get aboard in this city." A slouchy negro with a cigarette in his fingers glanced at me in passing and then, hesitating, turned quickly toward me.
"Got a match, boss ?" I gave him a match.
"Thank you, boss," and he passed on down the street.
"I seem to be 'boss' around here," I said.
This contact, slight as it was, gave me a feeling of warmth, removed a little the sensation of aloofness I had felt, and I strolled slowly down the street, looking in at the gay windows, now ablaze with lights, and watching the really wonderful procession of vehicles of all shapes and sizes that rattled by on the pavement.

Even at that hour of the day I think there were more of them in one minute than I see in a whole month at my farm.
It's a great thing to wear shabby clothes and an old hat.

Some of the best things I have ever known, like these experiences of the streets, have resulted from coming up to life from underneath; of being taken for less than I am rather than for more than I am.
I did not always believe in this doctrine.

For many years--the years before I was rightly born into this alluring world--I tried quite the opposite course.

I was constantly attempting to come down to life from above.