The Whisper Of The Blood And The

The Writer Must Be Able To Revel And Roll In The Abundance Of Words; He Must Know Not Only The Direct But Also The Secret Power Of A Word. There Are Overtones And Undertones To A Word, And Lateral Echoes, Too.

When Good Befalls A Man He Calls It Providence, When Evil Fate.

In My Solitude, Many Miles From Men And Houses, I Am In A Childishly Happy And Carefree State Of Mind, Which You Are Incapable Of Understanding Unless Someone Explains It To You

Great Men Are Excellent Topics Of Conversation, But The Superior Man, The Superior Men, The Masters, The Universal Spirits On Horseback, Have To Stop And Search Their Memories Merely To Know Who These So-called Great Men Might Be. And So The Great Man Is Left With The Crowd, The Worthless Majority...for His Admirers.

Were I More Conversant With Literature And Its Great Names, I Could Go On Quoting Them Ad Infinitum And Acknowledge My Debt For The Merit You Have Been Generous Enough To Find In My Work