shatter the old idea of it into bits and rebuild it nearer to the
heart's desire. How was I to do this with dish-washing?

"I broke a good many plates while I was pondering over the matter.
Then it occurred to me that here was just the relaxation I needed.
I had been worrying over the mental strain of being surrounded all day
long by vociferous books, crying out at me their conflicting views
as to the glories and agonies of life. Why not make dish-washing my balm
and poultice?

"When one views a stubborn fact from a new angle, it is amazing
how all its contours and edges change shape! Immediately my dishpan
began to glow with a kind of philosophic halo! The warm, soapy water
became a sovereign medicine to retract hot blood from the head;
the homely act of washing and drying cups and saucers became a symbol
of the order and cleanliness that man imposes on the unruly world
about him. I tore down my book rack and reading lamp from over
the sink.

"Mr. Gilbert," he went on, "do not laugh at me when I tell you that I
have evolved a whole kitchen philosophy of my own. I find the kitchen
the shrine of our civilization, the focus of all that is comely in life.
The ruddy shine of the stove is as beautiful as any sunset.
A well-polished jug or spoon is as fair, as complete and beautiful,
as any sonnet. The dish mop, properly rinsed and wrung and hung
outside the back door to dry, is a whole sermon in itself.
The stars never look so bright as they do from the kitchen door
after the ice-box pan is emptied and the whole place is 'redd up,'
as the Scotch say."