The Printed Page Was Like Wine To

In The Hill Country, Civilization Steals In Last, And The People Retain Much Of The Crude But Vigorous Mode Of Expression Of The Colonial Days And Earlier.

I Became A Writer In Spite Of My Environments.

Man Is Still An Ape In That He Forgets What Is Not Ever Before His Eyes.

The Printed Page Was Like Wine To Me.

I Have Gone Into Yesterday And Tomorrow And Both Were As Real As Today -- Which Is Like The Dreams Of Ghosts!