Glory, As Anyone Knows, Is Bitter Stuff.

Is There Not A Sort Of Remorse That Precedes Sin? Was It Remorse At The Very Fact That I Existed?

Amid The Moon And The Stars, Amid The Clouds Of The Night, Amid The Hills Which Bordered On The Sky With Their Magnificent Silhouette Of Pointed Cedars, Amid The Speckled Patches Of The Moon, Amid The Temple Buildings That Emerged Sparkling White Out Of The Surrounding Darkness - Amid All This, I Was Intoxicated By The Pellucid Beauty Of Uiko's Treachery.

The Cynicism That Regards Hero Worship As Comical Is Always Shadowed By A Sense Of Physical Inferiority

Quite Possibly, What I Call Happiness May Coincide With What Others Call The Moment Of Imminent Danger

Was I Ignorant, Then, When I Was Seventeen? I Think Not. I Knew Everything. A Quarter-century's Experience Of Life Since Then Has Added Nothing To What I Knew. The One Difference Is That At Seventeen I Had No 'realism'.