Many Of The Men Who Had Come

Few Forms Of Life Are So Engaging As Birds.

Violence Commands Both Literature And Life, And Violence Is Always Crude And Distorted.

Nothing, Except The Weather Report Or A General Maxim Of Conduct, Is So Unsafe To Rely Upon As A Theory Of Fiction.

Yes, I Learned Long Ago That The Only Satisfaction Of Authorship Lies In Finding The Very Few Who Understand What We Mean. As For Outside Rewards, There Is Not One That I Have Ever Discovered.

. . . Every Tree Near Our House Had A Name Of Its Own And A Special Identity. This Was The Beginning Of My Love For Natural Things, For Earth And Sky, For Roads And Fields And Woods, For Trees And Grass And Flowers; A Love Which Has Been Second Only To My Sense Of Enduring Kinship With Birds And Animals, And All Inarticulate Creatures.