These Critics Who Crucify Me Do Not

Before Exulatation Had Vanished, I Felt As If I Had Been Granted A Marvellous Privilege. Out Of The Inscrutable Waters A Beautiful Fish Had Somehow Leaped To Show Me Fleetingly The Life And Spirit Of His Element.

No One Connected Intimately With A Writer Has Any Appreciation Of His Temperament, Except To Think Him Overdoing Everything.

This Motion-picture Muddle Had Distracted Me From My Writing.

What Is Writing But An Expression Of My Own Life?

I Will See This Game Of Life Out To Its Bitter End