A Dreamer, I Walked Enchanted, And Nothing

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.

He Was Like Someone Sleeping Who Woke Suddenly And Found The World...all The Beauty Of It, And The Sadness Too. The Hunger And The Thirst. Everything He Had Never Thought About Or Known Was There Before Him, And Magnified Into One Person Who By Chance, Or Fate--call It What You Will--happened To Be Me.

A Bad Workman Blames His Tools.

The Road To Manderley Lay Ahead. There Was No Moon. The Sky Above Our Heads Was Inky Black. But The Sky On The Horizon Was Not Dark At All. It Was Shot With Crimson, Like A Splash Of Blood. And The Ashes Blew Towards Us With The Salt Wind From The Sea.

I Thought Of All Those Heroines Of Fiction Who Looked Pretty When They Cried, And What A Contrast I Must Make With A Blotched And Swollen Face, And Red Rims To My Eyes.