One Man's Bane Is Another's Bliss.

I Know This: If Life Is Illusion, Then I Am No Less An Illusion, And Being Thus, The Illusion Is Real To Me. I Live, I Burn With Life, I Love, I Slay, And Am Content.

In This World Men Struggle And Suffer Vainly, Finding Pleasure Only In The Bright Madness Of Battle; Dying, Their Souls Enter A Gray Misty Realm Of Clouds And Icy Winds, To Wander Cheerlessly Throughout Eternity.

The Printed Page Was Like Wine To Me.

Man Can Be That Which He Wishes To Be; Form And Substance, They Are But Shadows. The Mind, The Ego, The Essence Of The God-dream -- That Is Real, That Is Immortal.

I Had Neither Expert Aid Nor Advice. I Studied No Courses In Writing; Until A Year Or So Ago, I Never Read A Book By Anybody Advising Writers How To Write.