A Pioneer Should Have Imagination, Should Be

In Little Towns, Lives Roll Along So Close To One Another; Loves And Hates Beat About, Their Wings Almost Touching.

So Long As A Novelist Works Selfishly For The Pleasure Of Creating Character And Situation Corresponding To His Own Illusions, Ideals And Intuitions, He Will Always Produce Something Worth While And Natural. Directly He Takes Himself Too Seriously And Begins For The Alleged Benefit Of Humanity An Elaborate Dissection Of Complexes, He Evolves A Book That Is More Ridiculous And Tiresome Than The Most Conventional Cold Cream Girl Novel Of Yesterday.

People Live Through Such Pain Only Once. Pain Comes Again—but It Finds A Tougher Surface.

What If - What If Life Itself Were The Sweetheart?

You Must Not Begin To Fret About The Successes Of Cheap People. After All, What Have They To Do With You?