What Does It Mean To Die When

An Intoxication With Forbidden Knowledge In Which The Natural Things Become Unimportant.

Obviously, A Writer Can't Know Everything About What She Writes. It's Impossible.

I Was Good And Bad, But Never Wicked.

I Had Many Wonderful Experiences, Received Beautiful Letters, And My Christian Books Received Substantive And Thoughtful Reviews. But There Was Always Argument, Dispute, Questions As To What I "really" Believed, Lectures From Here And There On "the Real Truth," Etc.

Wasn't It His Right To Listen To Opera, Read Poetry And Adventure Novels, Go To Europe Every Couple Of Months For Some Reason Or Another, And Drive His Porsche Over The Speed Limit Until He Found Out Who He Was?