... Obsessions Are Always Dangerous.

Ideas Are Like Everything Else. They've Got To Be Marketed.

I Looked At Her. Sheila Was My Girl--the Girl I Wanted--and Wanted For Keeps. But It Wasn't Any Use Having Illusions About Her. Sheila Was A Liar And Probably Always Would Be A Liar. It Was Her Way Of Fighting For Survival--the Quick Easy Glib Denial. It Was A Child's Weapon--and She'd Probably Never Got Out Of Using It. If I Wanted Sheila, I Must Accept Her As She Was--be At Hand To Prop Up The Weak Places. We've All Got Our Weak Places. Mine Were Different From Sheila's, But They Were There.

All I Needed Was A Steady Table And A Typewriter...a Marble-topped Bedroom Washstand Table Made A Good Place; The Dining-room Table Between Meals Was Also Suitable.

I Suppose It Is Because Nearly All Children Go To School Nowadays And Have Things Arranged For Them That They Seem So Forlornly Unable To Produce Their Own Ideas.

It's Like All Those Quiet People, When They Do Lose Their Tempers They Lose Them With A Vengeance.