I'll Have You Know I Do The

My Mistake Was In Ever Opening The Books.

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

On The Sled, In The Box, Lay A Third Man Whose Toil Was Over, - A Man Whom The Wild Had Conquered And Beaten Down Until He Would Never Move Nor Struggle Again. It Is Not The Way Of The Wild To Like Movement. Life Is An Offense To It, For Life Is Movement; And The Wild Aims Always To Destroy Movement.

I Write For No Other Purpose Than To Add To The Beauty That Now Belongs To Me.

The Marriage Tie Becomes Possessed Of A History And Takes To Itself Traditions. This History And These Traditions Form A Great Fund, To Which Changing Conditions And Growing Imagination Constantly Add. And The Traditions, More Especially, Bear Heavily Upon The Individual, Overmastering His Natural Expression Of The Love Instinct And Forcing Him To An Artificial Expression Of That Love Instinct. He Loves, Not As His Savage Forbears Loved, But As His Group Loves.