Ants In The House Seem To Be,

The Best Fish In The World Are Of Course Those One Catches Oneself.

The Individual Man Is Transitory, But The Pulse Of Life And Of Growth Goes On After He Is Gone, Buried Under A Wreath Of Magnolia Leaves.

They Were All Too Tightly Bound Together, Men And Women, Creatures Wild And Tame, Flowers, Fruits And Leaves, To Ask That Any One Be Spared. As Long As The Whole Continued, The Earth Could Go About Its Business.

But To Make The Intangible Tangible, To Pick The Emotion Out Of The Air And Make It True For Others, Is Both The Blessing And The Curse Of The Writer, For The Thing Between Book Covers Is Never As Beautiful As The Thing He Imagined.

I Have Found That Each Of My Books Has Developed Out Of Something I Have Written In A Previous Book. Some Thought Evidently Unfinished.