If You Tell A Novelist, 'life's Not

I Think That At The Bottom Of All Art Lies The Impulse To Preserve.

I Work All Day, And Get Half-drunk At Night.

In Everyone There Sleeps A Sense Of Life Lived According To Love.

Many Famous Feet Have Trod Sublunary Paths, And Famous Hands Have Weighed The Strength They Have Against The Strength They Need; And Famous Lips Interrogated God Concerning Franchise In Eternity.

Never Such Innocence, Never Before Or Since, As Changed Itself To Past Without A Word--the Men Leaving The Gardens Tidy, The Thousands Of Marriages Lasting A Little While Longer: Never Such Innocence Again.