The Test Of Beauty Is Whether It

They Were All Too Tightly Bound Together, Men And Women, Creatures Wild And Tame, Flowers, Fruits And Leaves, To Ask That Any One Be Spared. As Long As The Whole Continued, The Earth Could Go About Its Business.

People In General Are Totally Unable To Detach The Personality Of A Writer From The Products Of His Thinking.

Sorrow Was Like The Wind. It Came In Gusts.

I Have Found That Each Of My Books Has Developed Out Of Something I Have Written In A Previous Book. Some Thought Evidently Unfinished.

Living Was No Longer The Grief Behind Him, But The Anxiety Ahead.