I'll Have You Know I Do The

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.

His Bondage Had Softened Him. Irresponsibility Had Weakened Him. He Had Forgotten How To Shift For Himself. The Night Yawned About Him.

He Became Quicker Of Movement Than The Other Dogs, Swifter Of Foot, Craftier, Deadlier, More Lithe, More Lean With Ironlike Muscle And Sinew, More Enduring, More Cruel More Ferocious, And More Intelligent. He Had To Become All These Things, Else He Would Not Have Held His Own Nor Survived The Hostile Environment In Which He Found Himself.

She Was Thrilling To A Desire That Urged Her To Go Forward, To Be In Closer To That Fire, To Be Squabbling With The Dogs, And To Be Avoiding And Dodging The Stumbling Feet Of Men.

They Were Not Half Living, Or Quarter Living. They Were Simply So Many Bags Of Bones In Which Sparks Of Life Fluttered Faintly.