I Regret All Of My Books.

Lack Of Power And Opportunity Passes Off Too Often For Virtue.

The Spirit Of The Marriage Left The Bedroom And Took To Living In The Parlor.

It Seemed To Me That The Human Beings I Met Reacted Pretty Much The Same To The Same Stimuli. Different Idioms,yes. Circumstances And Conditions Having Power To Influence, Yes. Inherent Difference, No.

My Head Was Full Of Misty Fumes Of Doubt.

Perhaps, It Is Just As Well To Be Rash And Foolish For A While. If Writers Were Too Wise, Perhaps No Books Would Be Written At All. It Might Be Better To Ask Yourself "why?" Afterwards Than Before. Anyway, The Force From Somewhere In Space Which Commands You To Write In The First Place, Gives You No Choice. You Take Up The Pen When You Are Told, And Write What Is Commanded. There Is No Agony Like Bearing An Untold Story Inside You.