I Would Always Rather Be Happy Than

I Am Not An Angel," I Asserted; "and I Will Not Be One Till I Die: I Will Be Myself.

Que Me Voulez-vous?' Said He In A Growl Of Which The Music Was Wholly Confined To His Chest And Throat, For He Kept His Teeth Clenched, And Seemed Registering To Himself An Inward Vow That Nothing Earthly Should Wring From Him A Smile. My Answer Commenced Uncompromisingly: - 'monsieur,' I Said, Je Veux L'impossible, Des Choses Inouïes.

The Writer Who Possesses The Creative Gift Owns Something Of Which He Is Not Always Master - Something That, At Times, Strangely Wills And Works For Itself.

There Are Not Unfrequently Substantial Reasons Underneath For Customs That Appear To Us Absurd; And If I Were Ever Again To Find Myself Amongst Strangers, I Should Be Solicitous To Examine Before I Condemned.

You Ask Rather Too Many Questions. I Have Given You Answers Enough For The Present: Now I Want To Read.