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John Foster

John Foster Books

United States Secretary of State

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“Make Believe When I wake up in the morning Not all is what it seems I drift through a world of make believe Between my real life and my dreams. Strange Adventures from the space book That I read the night before Crowd in upon on my drowsiness Through imagination's door. Between sleeping and waking The alarm clock's jangalang cry Becomes the roaring fire-railed rocket That hurls me through the sky. My bed's a silver spacecraft Which I pilot all alone Whisp'ring through endless stratospheres Towards planets still unknown. Outside through the mists of morning The spinning lights of cars In my make-believe space voyage Become eternities of stars. Is that my mother calling something That my dreams can't understand? Or can it be crackling instructions From far off Mission Command? Gareth Owen”

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Author:John Foster
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“The Tenth Planet There was this buoyant blue balloon That felt a little spare. It had been given life on Earth, Was puffed with human air. It bumped into a telescope And glanced at outer space; It thought it saw some more balloons Each with a friendly face. It gazed on all the planets That lay beyond the moon: Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune. And further out was Pluto. A cold and distant sphere; That had to be the target, The lonliest by far. So the balloon floated upwards, Sneaked through the Earth's thick clouds; Saw stars above get closer And, down below, the crowds. The Earth itself got smaller, A mottled ball of blue; It too was balloon-like From a certain point of view. Out, out into the darkness The balloon kept to its course. It kept away from comets Speeding among the stars. Mars was red and arid, Jupiter was gas, Saturn's rings were brilliant, Uranus a great mass. Neptune was a freezeup And - furthest out of all - Pluto, the ninth planet, A revolving snowball. Past Pluto was a dark spot Where a planet ought to be The balloon took its position To orbit endlessly. Back on Earth astronomers Studied evidence of a new, 10th planet And called it Providence. They say they'll send a spaceprobe To Providence quite soon; They'll either find some sign of life Or burst their own balloon. Alan Bold”

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Author:John Foster
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“The Spacefarer This account is true In event And of myself. Light years of traveling The darkness Have left only I, Writing on dumb screens Words too loud to voice. My thoughts strike The anvil of silence And no spark is made. I cower in the silence That crashes around me. I am frightened at my own being Hudded against controls That guide the ship Through seeds and stones of fire That does not warm me. No one who has not known it Can imagine the coldness Of the absence of the sun. We found no life That had shadows Or could speak to us. I grive for my kind, For landscapes and horizons, For the lusty life of animals. I hold myself in my arms. I drink my tears Because I cannot bear To lose them. The course is set But will I stay it? No being out of its world mould Can truly know the journey's end. I sing no more. I still my hope with my fear, I still my body Not to draw the eye of imagine fate. Will I dare this way again? My heart misses its wandering beat. I am bringing the treasured bodies Of my brothers Back to their birth planet. Will the Earth Race Be at home to us When I knock? Julie Holder”

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Author:John Foster
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“We’ve learned,” he says, “that over the history of our planet, Earth and life have co-evolved. Changes in the environment affect life, and changes in life can transform the environment. This is a lesson to ponder as we think about our future as well as our past.” —Andrew H. Knoll PhD— From—Cambrian Ocean World: Ancient Sea Life of North America (Life of the Past).****couldn’t find this title****”

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Author:John Foster
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“A man without decision can never be said to belong to himself.”

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Book:Essays, in a Series of Letters, on the Following Subjects: On Man's Writing Memoirs of Himself. On Decision of Character. On the Application of the Epithet Romantic. On Some of the Causes by which Evangelical Religion Has Been Rendered Less Acceptable to Persons of Cultivated Taste
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