Really, Trees Are Nearly As Important As

Why, Why, When One Writes, Does A Sort Of Shackle Bind One's Imagination? I Become Conscious Of A Deadening Mediocrity, Perhaps A Form Of Mental Cowardice, And I Long To Break Free, To Let My Imagination Take Wings. It Doesn't - Yet.

Sorrow And Frustration Have Their Power. The World Is Moved By People With Great Discontents. Happiness Is A Drug. It Can Make Men Blind And Deaf And Insensible To Reality. There Are Times When Only Sorrow Can Give To Sorrow.

Those Who Prepare For War Get It.

Life Flows On Over Death As Water Closes Over A Stone Dropped Into A Pool. ... Fate Is Certain; Death Is Certain; But The Courage And Nobility Of Men And Women Matter More Than These.

The Damned Book I Am Writing Is Like The Driveling Of A Weak-kneed Sea Calf. If I Were Sufficiently Strong Minded, I Should Tear It Up An Start Again. But I Don't.