Writing Was Like Digging Coal. I Sweat

I Arise Full Of Eagerness And Energy, Knowing Well What Achievement Lies Ahead Of Me.

I Need This Wild Life, This Freedom.

Men May Rise On Stepping Stones Of Their Dead Selves To Higher Things.

What Makes Life Worth Living? Better Surely, To Yield To The Stain Of Suicide Blood In Me And Seek Forgetfulness In The Embrace Of Cold Dark Death.

Fishing Is A Condition Of Mind Wherein You Cannot Possibly Have A Bad Time.