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Something I Owe To The Soil That Grew-more To The Life That Fed-but Most To Allah Who Gave Me Two Separate Sides Of My Head. I Would Go Without Shirt Or Shoes, Friends, Tobacco, Or Bread Sooner Than For An Instant Lose Either Side Of My Head.

The Guns, Thank God, The Guns.

Literature Is A Splendid Mistress, But A Bad Wife.

And No One Shall Work For Money, And No One Shall Work For Fame, But Each For The Joy Of The Working, And Each, In His Separate Star, Shall Draw The Thing As He Sees It For The God Of Things As They Are!

For The Sin They Do By Two And Two They Must Pay For One By One.