It's Lovely. I Hate It.

You Should Visit Before You Pass Judgment On A Place.

It's Lovely. I Hate It.

I Tend Not To Analyse My Work, Though I'm Frequently Intrigued When Other People Take Time To Do So.

How Massively The Mountains Stand, While Low To The Ground The Sand Blows. The Sand Blows On And On. And Then There Are No Mountains, None At All, The Sand Has Kissed And Whispered Them Away. And Still, The Sand Blows On.

I Submitted Manuscripts To Publishers. This Was Not So Much A Feeling That I Should Be Published As A Wish To Escape The Feared And Hated Drudgery Of Normal Work.