The Indian Story Has Never Been Written.

Work Is My Salvation. It Changes My Moods.

The Difficulty, The Ordeal, Is To Start.

What Is Writing But An Expression Of My Own Life?

There Are Hours When I Must Force The Novel Out Of My Mind And Be Interested In The Children.

What Makes Life Worth Living? Better Surely, To Yield To The Stain Of Suicide Blood In Me And Seek Forgetfulness In The Embrace Of Cold Dark Death.