There Was Never An Angler Who Lived

Writing Was Like Digging Coal. I Sweat Blood. The Spell Is On Me.

I See So Much More Than I Used To See. The Effect Has Been To Depress And Sadden And Hurt Me Terribly.

Love Of Man For Woman--love Of Woman For Man. That's The Nature, The Meaning, The Best Of Life Itself.

No One Connected Intimately With A Writer Has Any Appreciation Of His Temperament, Except To Think Him Overdoing Everything.

I Must Go Deeper And Even Stronger Into My Treasure Mine And Stint Nothing Of Time, Toil, Or Torture.