Everything Is Good . . . As

And Not Only Did He Learn By Experience, But Instincts Long Dead Became Alive Again. The Domesticated Generations Fell From Him. In Vague Ways He Remembered Back To The Youth Of The Breed, To The Time The Wild Dogs Ranged In Packs Through The Primeval Forest And Killed Their Meat As They Ran It Down.

No; I Did Not Hate Him. The Word Is Too Weak. There Is No Word In The Language Strong Enough To Describe My Feelings. I Can Say Only That I Knew The Gnawing Of A Desire For Vengeance On Him That Was A Pain In Itself And That Exceeded All The Bounds Of Language.

Life, In A Sense, Is Living And Surviving. And All That Makes For Living And Surviving Is Good. He Who Follows The Fact Cannot Go Astray, While He Who Has No Reverence For The Fact Wanders Afar.

Don't Loaf And Invite Inspiration; Light Out After It With A Club, And If You Don't Get It You Will Nonetheless Get Something That Looks Remarkably Like It.

I Write For No Other Purpose Than To Add To The Beauty That Now Belongs To Me. I Write A Book For No Other Reason Than To Add Three Or Four Hundred Acres To My Magnificent Estate.