Words Began Fights And Words Ended Them.

To Comfort Any Mortal Against Loneliness, One Other Is Enough.

Somewhere Beyond The Sink-hole, Past The Magnolia, Under The Live Oaks, A Boy And A Yearling Ran Side By Side, And Were Gone Forever.

Living Was No Longer The Grief Behind Him, But The Anxiety Ahead.

A Man'll Seem Like A Person To A Woman, Year In, Year Out. She'll Put Up And She'll Put Up. Then One Day He'll Do Something Maybe No Worse Than What He's Been A-doing All His Life. She'll Look At Him. And Without No Warning He'll Look Like A Varmint.

Personal Publicity Is Apt To Be Dangerous To Any Writer's Integrity; For The Moment He Begins To Fancy Himself As Quite A Person, A Taint Creeps Into His Work.