AndsointotheroomintheeveningcameyoungEnoch\'sfriends。Therewasnothingparticularlystrikingaboutthemexceptthattheywereartistsofthekindthattalk。Everyoneknowsofthetalkingartists。Throughoutalloftheknownhistoryoftheworldtheyhavegatheredinroomsandtalked。Theytalkofartandarepassionately，almostfeverishly，inearnestaboutit。T1heythinkitmattersmuchmorethanitdoes。
Andsothesepeoplegatheredandsmokedciga-
rettesandtalkedandEnochRobinson，theboyfromthefarmnearWinesburg，wasthere。Hestayedinacornerandforthemostpartsaidnothing。Howhisbigbluechildlikeeyesstaredabout!Onthewallswerepictureshehadmade，crudethings，halffin-
ished。Hisfriendstalkedofthese。Leaningbackintheirchairs，theytalkedandtalkedwiththeirheadsrockingfromsidetoside。Wordsweresaidaboutlineandvaluesandcomposition，lotsofwords，suchasarealwaysbeingsaid。
Enochwantedtotalktoobuthedidn\'tknowhow。