Aye, You White Dog, You Are Like

I Reckon If I Ever Marry, She Will Have To Be A Strong Woman In A Circus Or Something.

Before The Invader Sound Was Born, The Universe Was Silent And Shall Be Again.

It Is An Ill Thing To Meet A Man You Thought Dead In The Woodland At Dusk.

It Seems To Me That Many Writers, By Virtue Of Environments Of Culture, Art And Education, Slip Into Writing Because Of Their Environments.

Every Twinge Of Sensation, Even Of Agony, Was A Negation Of Death.