What’s Any Artist, But The Dregs Of

He Was Doing Missionary Work. But From The Outset He Had Little Success In Convincing His Charges Of Their Responsibility For A Sin Committed At The Beginning Of Creation, One Which, As They Understood It, They Were Ready And Capable (indeed, They Carried Charms To Assure It) Of Duplicating Themselves. He Did No Better Convincing Them That A Man Had Died On A Tree To Save Them All: An Act Which One Old Indian, If Gwyon Had Translated Correctly, Regarded As "rank Presumption".

How Some Of The Writers I Come Across Get Through Their Books Without Dying Of Boredom Is Beyond Me.

Justice? You Get Justice In The Next World, In This World You Have The Law.

What's Any Artist, But The Dregs Of His Work? The Human Shambles That Follows It Around. What's Left Of The Man When The Work's Done But A Shambles Of Apology.

Why Do You Treat Me As They Do, As Though I Were Exactly What I Want To Be. Why Do We Treat People That Way?