Every Human Endeavor, However Singular It Seems,

Better A Good Journalist Than A Poor Assassin.

For The Artist, The Color, The Bouquet, The Tinkling Of The Spoon On The Saucer, Are Things In The Highest Degree. He Stops At The Quality Of The Sound Or The Form. He Returns To It Constantly And Is Enchanted With It.

We Are Our Choices.

Everything In My Past, In My Training, Everything That Has Been Most Essential In My Activity Up To Now Has Made Me Above All A Man Who Writes, And It Is Too Late For That To Change.

He Is Always Becoming, And If It Were Not For The Contingency Of Death, He Would Never End.