A Bad Workman Blames His Tools.

I Suppose Sooner Or Later In The Life Of Everyone Comes A Moment Of Trial. We All Of Us Have Our Particular Devil Who Rides Us And Torments Us, And We Must Give Battle In The End.

Why, He Wondered, Should He Remember Her Suddenly, On Such A Day, Watching The Rain Falling On The Apple Trees?

I Wish I Was A Woman Of About Thirty-six Dressed In Black Satin With A String Of Pearls.

All Whispers And Echoes From A Past That Is Gone Teem Into The Sleeper's Brain, And He Is With Them, And Part Of Them.

Here Was The Freedom I Desired, Long Sought-for, Not Yet Known Freedom To Write, To Walk, To Wander, Freedom To Climb Hills, To Pull A Boat, To Be Alone.