Unless I Write Every Day, I Don't

During My Incarceration Mother Visited Me. She Had In Some Way Managed To Leave The Workhouse And Was Making An Effort To Establish A Home For Us. Her Presence Was Like A Bouquet Of Flowers; She Looked So Fresh And Lovely That I Felt Ashamed Of My Unkempt Appearance And My Shaved Iodined Head.'you Must Excuse His Dirty Face,' Said The Nurse.mother Laughed, And How Well I Remember Her Endearing Words As She Hugged And Kissed Me: 'with All Thy Dirt I Love Thee Still.

The Very Nature Of These Inventions Cries Out For The Goodness In Men; Cries Out For Universal Brotherhood; For The Unity Of Us All.

In This Book I Do Not Intend To Give A Blow-by-blow Description Of A Sex Bout: I Find Them Inartistic, Clinical And Unpoetic. The Circumstances That Lead Up To Sex I Find More Interesting.

My Prodigious Sin Was, And Still Is, Being A Non-conformist.

As I Began To Love Myself I Stopped Craving For A Different Life, And I Could See That Everything That Surrounded Me Was Inviting Me To Grow. Today I Call It 'maturity'.